I’m dusting off the bread machine — the one we haven’t used since we moved at the end of 2005. Also, firing up the crockpot because, dude, it may still be hot but it’s Fall already and working moms like me need crockpots to survive. It’s a soup day; we’ll have a little Italian sausage soup with homemade bread to warm our souls and make dinner a low-pressure event.

I do like to cook, although cooking is more often for survival than pleasure. Most moms I know don’t like to cook, or don’t cook at all (they heat up, order out or visit restaurants several times a week). I cook almost every night. Some nights are sandwich nights. We rarely go out.

There’s a great new helper for getting dinner on the table, though — the Charlottesville Super Suppers is NOW OPEN! I wrote about them back when they were just “coming soon” and lots of you said you’d like to try it.

So who’s with me? Leave a comment and we’ll coordinate a blogger gathering/cooking party.

And if you’re out of C’ville, let me know — have you tried Super Suppers or something similar? Did you like it?

(If you really don’t like to cook, they have a pick up option, too.)

When the girl came home from school today, she asked, “What is 9/11?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. She said everyone was talking about it at school and she didn’t know what it was. I think I know why; she was just five years old on 9/11/01. I remember explaining to her then, what I thought she’d understand, without making it too frightening for her. We sheltered her from the TV coverage; you probably remember — some of it was quite graphic. And I’m sure we’ve mentioned it on anniversaries since, so I’m not sure where this sudden historical amnesia is coming from.

So I sat her down and explained. I showed her some Internet coverage and some photos. I told her what I remembered about that day, and how sad it was — still is — for the entire country.

And you know what? She didn’t believe me. Not a word. I don’t know who got to her first but she is adamant. “It’s made up. That’s insane. That could never happen,” she said.

I understand, a little bit, where she’s coming from. I didn’t want to believe it then, either. It was all so surreal. And now, for some reason, she’s choosing to protect herself from this knowledge. Maybe she needs to, to feel safe in her world, at least for now.

I started to write this post a few times this evening, feeling like a failure as a parent because my kid thinks the greatest tragedy of our nation is a falsehood. I was going to ask for ideas of how to convince her 9/11 is real; that it really happened. But I’m not sure she’s ready. And I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do.

I remember.

I remember the exact color of the sky; what I wore; where I was with each stage of that horrible day.

I was on my way to New York, somewhat ironically for a funeral. My uncle died on 9/9. My grandpa-in-law drove me to the airport and we were listening to KMOX when the first plane hit. Like many, we assumed it was a small plane; an accident.

When I arrived at the airport, the ticket area was empty. I was told my flight was delayed. I was still oblivious. In the terminal, everything changed. Televisions at the gates were turned off, to reduce panic. The one TV that was on was in a bar. It was filled to capacity. I stared as I walked by. People were crying.

My stomach clenched in fear as police officers with German shepherds ran through the terminal.

I reached my gate and the attendant told me she just didn’t know what to do. I sat at the gate and waited to learn more. And then my father called.

Since my uncle had died, it was the first time in my adult life that all of my family was traveling on the same day. My parents had arrived in New York, my oldest sister was in the air and my middle sister was on her way to the airport.

I answered my cell phone and my father, in a voice he hadn’t used with me since I was 12 and done something really awful said, “You are not under any circumstances to get on an airplane today.” That frightened me, and snapped me awake to the reality that something was horribly wrong.

Then my husband called to tell me that another plane had crashed into the Pentagon. Finally I understood that we were under attack. I still had not seen a television.

In the days that followed, (I never made it to New York. My sisters and I missed my uncle’s funeral. My middle sister returned home and my oldest sister was diverted to Baltimore where she was stuck for a few days, then rented a car to drive home to Florida) I remember the silence of the skies. I remember overdosing on the tragedy, crying frequently and finally, having to stop watching, to move on.

But I remember. I will always remember.

Once upon a time there was a girl and a boy who believed in fairies. The girl believed in a fairy that came to her room and spirited away the dirty clothes, only to return them, washed, dried and folded by the end of every weekend. Sometimes when the fairy was a bit busy, the girl would complain that her clothes had not “come back” from the laundry on time.

The boy, a believer in fairies who deposit dollars into his parents’ accounts and protect him when he takes reckless chances with his safety, wandered into the kitchen one day, trailed by some of his teenaged guy friends and saw a cooling rack filled with fresh chocolate chip cookies. “Where did these come from?” he said.

“The cookie fairy,” replied his sarcastic, flour-dusted, overworked mother.

“I think I have a thing for the cookie fairy,” the boy goofed to his Risk-playing, band geek posse.

“I would think not,” the mother said, “since the fairy is me.”

In about eight weeks, we’ll be headed to Las Vegas for a wild weekend of regressing to our college days our friend Dave’s wedding.

Dave’s the goof in the middle:

In preparation, we were watching the Travel Channel and saw a program on vacationing in Las Vegas. It covered topics on where to stay, what do do, myths, truths, etc.

Everyone looked like they were losing their shirts having a good time.

The narrator pointed out that eye-popping skank-wear certain attire is required to even think about entering the nightclubs. As I pointed the remote and clicked OFF, I thought, “Egads. I haven’t a thing to wear.”

A Vegas wardrobe is not really part of the work at home mom daily attire. Not even my shoes are Vegas-friendly. Shopping for Vegas starts here.

I’ve been informally polling gambling fiends Vegas regulars at Gamblers Anonymous meetings networking events and informal gatherings to gauge just how serious the wardrobe crisis at hand might be, and it seems it is serious indeed.

I’m going to need a dress or two, some barely legal tops and some high-heeled, yet comfortable shoes.

Nothing says Vegas, baby! like sequins, eh? I’m not sure this is really “me” — not even “Vegas Mj” — but it’s got style coming and going.

Paging Twiggy.

What is this for? A Laugh-In revival? I think, no.

The jumpsuit.

I can have a drink with you, roll some dice, and then fix your car.

What year is this, anyway?

This is a bit too Charlie’s Angels for moi.

Ah, well. It won’t matter much what I’m wearing if I’ve got on a pair of Jimmy Choo’s.

Hey, Oprah? Can I get a pair of shoes?

I read. I read so much, I don’t even like to talk about how much I read. If I need to get something done around the house, I better not be in the middle of a book, that’s all I can say. So, being between books (which means I’m in the middle of two and finished another) I happened to catch Ree’s post, P-Dub Book Club. Immediately, I bought the book she recommended, Comeback (hey, Ree, you sold a book!) by Claire and Mia Fontaine, a gut-wrenching mother-daughter memoir about abuse (all kinds) and recovery.

Since I’m a rock star super special Amazon customer, I got it the next day (free shipping) and knocked it out shortly thereafter. It was good: thought-provoking and interesting, albeit a tad depressing. I offered it to a friend, but she declined, noting the drama in her real life was enough. This book might be too much for some.

It is not a book I’m going to read again. This much I know. So I’m offering it for FREE to the first person who writes a compelling enough comment sharing why they think they should have it.  I make the rules, so I get to decide who wins. This offer will end on Saturday, Sept. 15, so I’ll be making my decision this time next week. If you are the chosen one, I’ll expect an address where I can ship it. That’s all; nothing else. Oh, maybe some gratitude. That’d be nice.

Side note: are you following Confessions of a Pioneer Woman? Or The Pioneer Woman Cooks? I heard Ree speak at blogher07 and was charmed. CHARMED, I tell you! Her photographs are beautiful and she’s a funny, refreshing writer. Go there – come back — but go there, and I think you’ll find you love her as much as I do.

It’s time to find a new provider for our family of three cell phone users. We need inexpensive or free texting, good reach, coverage when we travel, and hopefully, a couple of free or inexpensive new phones thrown in for good measure. We’ve been using Sprint and we’re ready to jump.

What service do you use, Central Virginia? What do you recommend?

I have loved to shop online from the earliest days of my Internet life. Although I was aware that buying groceries online has been an option for a few years, I hadn’t taken advantage of it. In truth, I considered online grocery shopping to be a service for the old, the infirm, the disabled, the mom with a new infant or a gaggle of preschoolers in tow. I thought it was expensive, too — fixing it in my head at $15, when in reality, it’s only $5 (at Harris Teeter, anyway. In St. Louis, Dierbergs has a Groceries to Go online service with delivery for $12.95 plus 10 percent of your bill.)

And then, a few weeks ago, my husband told me his colleague Kelly does it all the time. He said, “Think about the time savings. How long does it take you to grocery shop?”

“At least an hour, sometimes an hour and a half.”

“Isn’t your time worth $5?”

Yes, yes it is. Not every store has online shopping of course. We’re lucky that the upscale grocery store chain with a location nearest to us, Harris Teeter, does. Here’s how it works: you select all the items you want to purchase from the store Web site — there’s an aisle by aisle directory with photos to help you make your selections and a search feature when you can’t find what you need. The first time out was time-consuming because I created a master list; a list of all the items I buy every week, like bread and milk, apples and bananas, etc. Once you’re done shopping, you check out with a credit card or note that you want to pay by check when you arrive. Then you choose from a selection of times for pick-up (they only staff for the online shopping service certain times of day, certain days of the week.) At this stage, you can also provide any special notes or tell them if you’ll allow substitutions.

When you arrive at the store (within the half hour pickup time previously selected), there is a designated parking spot for online shoppers. Pull into the spot, push the button and tell the disembodied voice your last name. Within minutes, a friendly employee will come out and load up your car with the groceries that have been pre-gathered and waiting for you in vast refrigerators just inside the store. This week, my personal shopper Denise told me about some substitutions she’d made, for example, a much larger box of cereal for just $.10 more, and the store brand chocolate chips (I’ll be baking cookies when I get done, here) since the name brand I selected was out of stock. I appreciate the additional thought provided by the shoppers who make sure I’m getting the best produce and the best deals.

I have made a few mistakes the first two times I’ve done it. The first time, I was thinking “one bunch of bananas” and what I got was one, single banana in a plastic bag. I forgot this week to order the ground beef by the pound and got just one quarter pound of beef (burger, anyone?). I’m getting the hang of it though.

The advantages, besides all the time-saving is that I’m not tempted to buy any impulse junk food; I’m more likely to remember everything if I have time to think about my purchases throughout the week, also because the master list is automated so the regular weekly items I need won’t be forgotten; and, I can more easily review prices with a running total as I’m shopping. I remember days when my weekly budget was under $100 and I’d carefully crawl the aisles with a calculator to make sure I didn’t overspend; this has the same function, and is much less humiliating. I’ll pay $5 for that, anytime.

Now, obviously, the online shopping is for the big weekly spree — not the dash for the gallon of milk or the pound of ground beef I’ll have to pick up some time . . .  it’s for saving that exhausting hour or so of wandering the aisles giving me more time for family, relaxing on the weekends and of course, blogging.

Have you tried online grocery shopping? What did you think? If you haven’t, would you be willing to give it a shot? The first time you shop online with Harris Teeter is FREE, so like any addictive habit, they know how to get you hooked.

Last night the boy and I were sitting in a room with the TV on. We weren’t really watching; I was reading and he was memorizing the amendments. Ah, high school.

The commercial came on — the one for some cell phone provider where everyone is speaking in text language, even grandma who tells mom to MYOB because she’s texting her BFF Rose.

The boy looked at me and said he feared for the world. I said, “Two things you must remember: never forget how to spell and never forget the importance of face to face interaction.”

And then I said he’d be fine. If only it were that simple.