(Deviating from my precious niece’s photos feels like a crime. So for now she’s stays on top of the blog.)

There is this thing Midwesterners do with their food. And no, I’m not referring to placing copious amounts of marshmallow in fruit salads, though they do indeed do that. I’m talking about tater tots. Tater tots used as real food options in real food casseroles. Like it’s totally normal or something.

The first time I encountered tater tots in a casserole I was simultaneously horrified and thrilled. I was babysitting and the children’s mother had set out a tater tot casserole for that night’s supper. Oh my goodness. Yumminess in Corningware.

So it is without further ado I present to you: Taco Tot Casserole. It’s comfort food at its best, a dish I secretly resented Jeremy for finishing off for lunch today, even though I had leftover Valentino’s pizza (which I love and crave). Yes, Taco Tot Casserole is that good.

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Taco Tot Casserole
(from Joan Texel)

1lb lean ground beef
1 – 1.25oz pkg taco seasoning mix
1 – 15oz whole kernel corn, drained
1 – 11oz can nacho cheese soup, undiluted
4 cups frozen tater tots
salsa (opt)
sour cream (opt)

Preheat oven to 375.

In a skillet cook beef until brown. Drain. Stir in taco seasoning mix and add water, cook as directed on package of taco seasoning. Spoon meat mixture into an un-greased 2-quart casserole dish. Spread corn over beef. Spoon undiluted soup over corn and arrange tater tots in a single layer over this.

Bake for 40-50 minutes or until bubbly and potatoes are lightly browned. If desired, serve with salsa and sour cream.

Yield: 5-6 servings.

One week ago we were standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon.

More Arizona pictures yet to come…

Last night was the Tale of Two Arrivals. Our arrival home from a family vacation in Phoenix, Arizona, was paralleled by another arrival. As we awaited our plane at the Phoenix airport, my sister in law Kristin was getting settled in a delivery ward at a hospital in Omaha. I haven’t heard the full story yet, so I can’t embellish this blog entry too richly, but I know the story’s outcome.

At 12:50am on September 27, about the same time I was finally laying my head down on my own pillow in my own bed, Madeleine Mae Lawton made her way into the world. My dear big brother became a father in an instant to a beautiful 8lb, 4oz, 20.5 inches long baby girl! Congratulations to Kris and Adam!! I can’t wait to love on my first niece.

Quick update: Kristin, Adam and Madeleine are all doing really well. Adam and Kris are natural parents — they look like they’ve been at the nursing, diapering, loving baby gig for a lifetime. And, of course, Madeleine is beautiful.

Just when you think you are living in the city, what with your postage stamp-sized lawn and five whole inches between your house and your neighbor’s, you notice a skinned deer hanging upside down in another neighbor’s garage.

“Venison”, he explains while carving away, Johnny Cash blaring from his stereo.

You nod in agreement. And wonder if you should shield your toddler’s eyes.

Yeah, yeah. So what if Montana came up with that slogan first? Nebraska is definitely big sky country, too.

I remember visiting South Dakota as a little girl and being somewhat in awe of the enormous sky. You could look east to west and see sky hitting the earth in each direction. Now that I’m a Midwesterner, no longer that little girl from Georgia, I have grown used to our beautiful skies. I love the open air, the clouds that transform from dark and brooding to light and fluffy within mere moments, the farm fields that seem to stretch on forever. I actually get a bit claustrophobic when driving on curvy, tree-covered roads in places like Lookout Mountain or St. Simon’s Island, as I am accustomed to our wide, open spaces.

Okay, Montana. I’ll give your your slogan back. Really, there is no place like Nebraska.

**Disclaimer: These pics aren’t the greatest (note the cut off kid in the second one), but I’m sacrificing my blogger’s pride in order to display them for the sky’s sake.

We had been back in Lincoln for about four months and were starting to house-shop. Not in a serious way, mind you, but a dreamy kind of way… Perhaps a brick home would be nice. In this neighborhood or this one? Close to our church, if at all possible. Someone, one of our parents perhaps, mentioned getting pre-approval for a home loan, so we scheduled an appointment for Tuesday, September 11 at 9:00am.

Good Morning America was on our television and I recall the program switching from planned material to live footage of one of the Twin Towers. Black clouds were billowing from the building and I wracked my brain to remember the World Trade Center from a visit to New York City when I was a junior in high school. I’ll never forget the shock in Charlie Gibson’s voice, and in my own being, when on live television a plane flew into the second tower. The plane looked teeny, unsubstantial, like a small commuter plane. At this point the newscasters had no idea what was going on, and Jeremy and I had an appointment with a bank loan officer.

Slightly unnerved by the morning’s events, we walked into the bank’s meeting room and began the paperwork for pre-approval. Sometime in the next half hour our loan officer walked back in to our room and reported that the Pentagon had been hit and that the World Trade Center had fallen. Fallen. In those moments my mind couldn’t grasp the horror, nor the meaning, of these statements. All of a sudden America, the stable safe country I had grown up in, became a war zone and it was scary. There I was, in the absolute middle of the US, and I was worried about each of my family members. I wanted to take a head count, to call each person I loved, to check up and make sure they were alive and safe and well. The feelings of insecurity, death and destruction were unleashed.

Within the next few hours, other feelings became apparent. Solidarity. Unity. Patriotism. Undying spirit. Dependence on one another and God.

I stayed glued to my TV set for who knows how long after the initial attacks. Information became my top priority and I’d turn off the news for only a few minutes in unsatisfactory attempts to clear my mind of grief. I don’t remember ever crying about it all, but I do recall feeling so shocked that tears seemed meaningless. I felt far away from the devastation in NYC, DC, and Pennsylvania—and yet altogether too close to the terrorists who had made their way to my country.

…potty-training the Wee One
…baking and baking and chopping and baking some more
…missing my dear friends
…eating lasagna and Frosty Dairy Desserts with other dear friends
…watching football
…loving my family, every last Lawton and Tredway among us
…wrapping up Season 2 of Veronica Mars
…going to the zoo with Uncle Noonee
…enjoying my husband and child
…rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn
…trying to figure out life

If there’s a baby in the vicinity, my dad will find it. Him luvs babies. I’m thinking he’s pretty much ready for the second Lawton grandchild to be born.

This shot was taken at Kristin’s baby shower and the baby pictured is not hers, rather the sweet chubby munchkin baby belongs to her good friend Daya. Kris and Adam’s baby girl already has lots of female playmates built in. I know Livia is already planning on rubbing her cousin’s head (it borders on obsession, her desire to rub babies’ heads) and giving “big hugs” to her when she arrives.

Thank heaven for little girls.

Though I was a bit hesitant to get started, canning was all I could think about late last week as a huge load of tomatoes began the process of decaying on my kitchen counter. I borrowed a large canner with a rack from a friend, purchased a jar lifter and wide-mouthed funnel from a hardware store of all places (thanks, TG!), had two girlfriends and my mom on call, waited for Punkin Baby to take a nap, and then jumped right in. I used one Mrs. Wages salsa seasoning packet and, voila, now I am the proud owner of five pints of homemade salsa.

At the time the steam clouds disappeared from the room, however, I wasn’t so proud of my handiwork. ALL that labor and effort, all that tomato juice that splurched uncontrollably over my countertops, all the boiling of jars and lids and salsa — and only five glass jars to show for it? But then, something greatly encouraging happened: Renae oooohed and aaaahed over my jars, calling them “beautiful” and other such complimentary words. Her sweet cheering lifted my soul and made me proud of what I had accomplished for the first time.

Go ooh and aah over someone’s five pints today. I’m sure there’s a tired canner near you who needs a cheerleader.

I’m looking for a pressure cooker/canning system or even just the equipment required for canning with a simple water bath. Anyone have one they’d like to sell? Leave a comment or email me directly. Thanks!