tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23928364366582737212024-03-07T00:05:26.556-05:00What's Kookin'in Kara's KitchenKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.comBlogger423125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-18654650267368217702011-06-04T12:13:00.047-05:002011-06-18T07:17:27.605-05:00Summer is Here!<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week eight</i><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">(as it turns out, the times that I actually have the big camera out and have two hands to take pictures are few and far between these days so click on the links to see some less <em>good</em> photographically-speaking pictures that are parentally-speaking just as memorable)<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Turns out Miller, like the rest of us, loves cookouts and <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/mommy-and-miller-on-memorial-day.html">long weekends</a>... hence Memorial Day was a real hit with him as he attended his first cookout and learned how great short work weeks (and the extra day with daddy) are <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- We finally caught one of <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/fast-action-smile.html">Miller's smiles on 'film' this week</a>, though about a week ago (at around 6 and 1/2 weeks), we were willing to say that he was smiling regularly - which as any experienced parents know is one of the greatest things <em>ever</em><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- This week brought the celebration of yet another family birthday... <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/06/happy-birthday-nana.html">this one was Nana's</a>!<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Miller and I continue to get out regularly (thank goodness for that) for walks with friends around the neighborhood... usually accompanied with visits to see the 'older women' in the area (i.e. most of my friends have daughters and they are all about 6 months to a year older than our guy) <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Thursday brought the end of our Bible study until the fall so we celebrated with tons and tons of other kids and moms at an end of the year brunch nearby - and boy did those cute kids love baby Miller <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Over the weekend, Miller made an appearnace at his first graduation party when we attended our neighbor's high school graduation party... hopefully he won't remember it so his expectations aren't set too high</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-82813320933413696452011-05-28T09:35:00.049-05:002011-06-13T08:41:45.021-05:00Ch-ch-changes<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week seven</i><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Perhaps I will be able to keep up with this a little better if I change formats... that's what parenting is all about anyway, right... adapting? And I assume no one is here to read <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/05/routine.html">my diatribes about losing pacifiers</a> anyway - and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to write about something other than parenting... one of these days! So here we go... </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIWQhbOweisxdwnL7sRUJphzYt9VzKZ7M5CAhC-Lx-eZPAkSS51ll5v_stjYf_AZjmCXYugm4ecLg9ASZ0cHeTKNSHpmA9IwLUFgO5vwCnRRhKuGdhD3Syw5AJgQl4kO4317YYrEiEX0/s1600/Week+seven+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIWQhbOweisxdwnL7sRUJphzYt9VzKZ7M5CAhC-Lx-eZPAkSS51ll5v_stjYf_AZjmCXYugm4ecLg9ASZ0cHeTKNSHpmA9IwLUFgO5vwCnRRhKuGdhD3Syw5AJgQl4kO4317YYrEiEX0/s400/Week+seven+003.jpg" t8="true" width="265px" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Miller wore his first sunglasses (and didn't seem to mind them!)... though they were actually his second pair. This pair courtesy of Uncle Ben and Aunt Kat... and we'd be remiss to not mention how incredibly good Uncle Ben was with the little guy (please come back?)<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Mr. Monkey (who hangs from the bars on Miller's playmat) has officially been named his best friend, with Mr. Elephant coming in a close second (depending on the day and/or mood)</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIUfidEjNYImIXzg7XKa_07972QGnqxyF86SgKr2B3inSSEugp_xGLeMdyAMlLEG9hgIrG6jfcOUdwvzmX9O4eER3Ix9U0w_P7TDs3iup-dFsY9CKBkGY2ddlM1R8cSQ-T9jXdEgD9-k/s1600/Week+seven+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIUfidEjNYImIXzg7XKa_07972QGnqxyF86SgKr2B3inSSEugp_xGLeMdyAMlLEG9hgIrG6jfcOUdwvzmX9O4eER3Ix9U0w_P7TDs3iup-dFsY9CKBkGY2ddlM1R8cSQ-T9jXdEgD9-k/s400/Week+seven+010.jpg" t8="true" width="265px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">- We celebrated another family birthday this week... and I must say that our little boy treated me well with a fun dinner out and a great day spent together<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Miller had his first backyard with the sprinkler day on Thursday - he mostly just snoozed and watched his two girlfriends play in the water table and sprinkler (<a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/05/routine.html">cutest ladybug sprinkler head ever</a>) but hopefully it was the start of a long friendship with summer afternoons spent outside <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- As sad as this is to admit, this week marked my first real re-entrance into the kitchen... and it wasn't nearly as hard or bad as I anticipated - I think the worst part was realizing the whole time that I actually hadn't cooked for almost 2 months<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">- Probably the most fun event of the week was <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/first-day-at-da-pool.html">the opening of our wonderful neighborhood pool</a> and our first cookout there - again, Miller wasn't wowing anyone on the diving boards but soaked up the atmosphere and he's sure to make many more appearances there</span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-49117257785024804762011-05-21T10:47:00.132-05:002011-06-05T09:33:03.479-05:00Routine<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week six</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUgajzjWcuPDwvk_llKpi1N5sxJbfllM2s2xjXa8WbmzoT0RCaszL9doduaOH6S2-v8L1ClRRFEr4fFg6YnJAuMIZLmX4EXdVDnIyzqscJWmXPampauvCFnmnVh04G5_kMFZs4I_qtWQ/s1600/Week+six+012a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUgajzjWcuPDwvk_llKpi1N5sxJbfllM2s2xjXa8WbmzoT0RCaszL9doduaOH6S2-v8L1ClRRFEr4fFg6YnJAuMIZLmX4EXdVDnIyzqscJWmXPampauvCFnmnVh04G5_kMFZs4I_qtWQ/s400/Week+six+012a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvvLS8H81zYvUe2IzsM1I5-3rOqmgcXuy1lrAS9sY_Q3QNrfdeA9okzI2y7qY3NOIq7rTGC2yFzFVu4f1NdTq57g3BbPG_3ljal4clJ5SpGzoVgEBXBh6cAAfmeNAdAkc1JSHcHpzwOs/s1600/Week+six+017a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Well, thank goodness. Life has not jinxed us even after being so bold <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/05/now-i-understand.html">to say that it almost felt like we were falling into a routine</a>... and finally succumbing to our new normal. And to be honest, I don't know why I was fighting it so much because this life, being a mom, really isn't <i>so bad</i>! <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Thanks to our favorite <a href="http://restaurant.com/">restaurant.com</a>, Sunday night, we took ourselves out to our first family (of three) dinner at Sweet Rice Thai<i>. </i>Miller slept the whole time and Chris and I enjoyed a nice, budget conscious, family dinner out. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Tuesday brought us our first playgroup. And another realization... that as much as we'd like to think playgroups are for the kids, they are really for the moms. That's not a bad thing, though... the kids get to socialize and expend some energy and the moms get to well... socialize!<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Besides the playgroup, I've confirmed that getting out of the house for any errand really helps to keep me sane. It also makes me pay closer attention to the pocketbook because I'm more apt to spend money but once I realized that my errands needed to be necessities rather than just somewhere to go (and spend more money), I was able to make good use of our time AND get out of the house with the little man. We routinely hit up Babies R Us (for necessities, returns, or gifts - babies are popping up everywhere these days!), Target, the grocery store (including Trader Joe's of course), and some random stores thrown in here and there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvvLS8H81zYvUe2IzsM1I5-3rOqmgcXuy1lrAS9sY_Q3QNrfdeA9okzI2y7qY3NOIq7rTGC2yFzFVu4f1NdTq57g3BbPG_3ljal4clJ5SpGzoVgEBXBh6cAAfmeNAdAkc1JSHcHpzwOs/s1600/Week+six+017a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvvLS8H81zYvUe2IzsM1I5-3rOqmgcXuy1lrAS9sY_Q3QNrfdeA9okzI2y7qY3NOIq7rTGC2yFzFVu4f1NdTq57g3BbPG_3ljal4clJ5SpGzoVgEBXBh6cAAfmeNAdAkc1JSHcHpzwOs/s400/Week+six+017a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Miller also discovered just how much <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/remembering-week-six.html">he likes to lie on his cushy puppy mat</a>. This is not a first-time momma bragging but it definitely seems like he has a preference for the fluffy mat as he constantly runs his hands through the fur of the puppy and reaches for the puppy's head almost immediately. I love watching him discover new things... even if it's by accident. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Besides our family dinner out, one of my other favorite parts of the week was my night out for Mexican (!!) with some girlfriends. I even splurged and got a margarita. One thing's for sure, being a mom makes you appreciate evenings like that one more than you thought possible. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">We also had our very first, very cliche fatherhood moment. (bear with me here) One night this week, Miller's pacifier was misplaced - only we didn't realize that it was missing until it was needed sometime the following day. Chris was heading to a softball game that evening so he'd packed a gym bag of clothes and equipment early that morning which included the gray shorts he'd been wearing the day before. Fast forward to the following night, in a rush to get home from the game, Chris accidentally left his gym bag at the field but it was thankfully picked up by the coach of his team. While coordinating picking up the bag (and at this point we were in a full-tilt panic because Miller's favorite pacifier was MIA), Chris had to ask Kevin, the coach, to open his bag, find his gray shorts, and see if there was a, uh... pacifier in the pocket. Lo-and-behold, it was there... and I got a good chuckle hearing the phone conversation (and seeing Chris' associated expression). I would have paid a pretty penny to see Kevin's face on the other end of the line, as he's a single guy living the good life in Arlington (single ladies, I have a very eligible bachelor for you). <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Later in the week, <a href="http://lbinsb.blogspot.com/">a friend</a> (mom-to-be of Miller's future buddy, Anderson) and I headed to a fun neighborhood down the road called Del Ray to hit up some kids' consignment stores. I was hoping to find some clothes for Miller for far into the future (i.e. after he turns one) but quickly discovered that I have no clue what little one-year old boys wear. Overalls? Jeans? I walked away almost empty-handed... save for a miniature pair of swim trunks and a 0-6 month hat. And as much fun as checking out cute consignment stores was, the highlight of the trip (other than the company) was a stop in the <a href="http://www.thedairygodmother.com/">Dairy Godmother</a> for some frozen custard. To say I'm obsessed with frozen custard would be a drastic understatement. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZGg2BuvbVJHNccEqwjcCt_Y-iZkNB0rA5Ucvp5Z5Tzv1CzpGWgz30pgacanynvK3p_L5yyBc5_CGNZw4qu808XPJJ-V-ryqCvyHqTdsxiFfrIm3v1eCwJIWEWcxyc7F9cDqC2HmwNPo/s1600/Week+six+003a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZGg2BuvbVJHNccEqwjcCt_Y-iZkNB0rA5Ucvp5Z5Tzv1CzpGWgz30pgacanynvK3p_L5yyBc5_CGNZw4qu808XPJJ-V-ryqCvyHqTdsxiFfrIm3v1eCwJIWEWcxyc7F9cDqC2HmwNPo/s400/Week+six+003a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">As a final parting shot to week six, Miller attended his first family baby shower... for another friend-to-be, Nathaniel. It was a perfect kid-friendly occasion and a super fun afternoon spent preparing for another little buddy.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Another week has passed... I dare say we are having a good time at this family-of-three thing!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-70853872724348443052011-05-14T10:44:00.001-05:002011-05-21T08:47:09.370-05:00Now I Understand<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week five</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykoLAbWMJZ-12GaEqY7rHzS8bryY95Mi7NwPRSPOGnrdN9XtSrtWVkgHJQa5GvhzowMSco2GgsKuyIj9kr_TZFDhvTe9rXGLcQCnGlnjU6CbE_SauKrwu0nCpMWf9LcR9Em1H_fQTe-U/s1600/Mother%2527s+Day+028a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykoLAbWMJZ-12GaEqY7rHzS8bryY95Mi7NwPRSPOGnrdN9XtSrtWVkgHJQa5GvhzowMSco2GgsKuyIj9kr_TZFDhvTe9rXGLcQCnGlnjU6CbE_SauKrwu0nCpMWf9LcR9Em1H_fQTe-U/s400/Mother%2527s+Day+028a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Don't call me a drama queen but for the first time, I actually <i>get</i> (<i>really</i> get) why parents have a day designated just for them. And I'm not saying that <i>I</i> deserve this hallowed day but just that I officially understand what it's all about. Parents (those who've been at it a lot longer than yours truly) certainly deserve a day (or 300).<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">That aside, my first Mother's Day (though I admit that I felt like an impostor the whole day) was fantastic. Low-key but special. Our morning started with my two favorite boys bringing me breakfast in bed followed by church... the first time we were brave enough to sit through the whole service (we even sat in the front, though not by choice). My only request for the day was a stop by my favorite <a href="http://www.heidelbergbakery.com/">Heidelberg Bakery</a> and that was quickly fulfilled on the way home. And finally, after a few leisurely hours at home, we headed to celebrate Andrea and Chris' daughter, Sarah, and her baptism, with a delicious cookout. I'm not sure how I imagined being a mom on Mother's Day would feel but it was pretty amazing to realize why I'm now 'allowed' to participate in the big day.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Mid-way through the week, although it marked the 4.5 week point, found us at our pediatrician's for Miller's big one-month appointment. I never imagined how nervous his doctor's appointments would make me but I'm a wreck heading into these things. Miller, however, was fine... of course. The calm, cool, and collected men in this family seem to counterbalance this crazy woman. He's in the 75th percentile all the way around (height, weight, head) and has been gaining about an ounce a day putting him at 10 lbs 5 oz. And he was a champ as he got part two of his Hepatitis B vaccine. I credit Miller's easy-going-ness at the appointment to his dad being in attendance as well as the fact that I'd attended my first Babes with Babes Bible Study that morning where I prayed long and hard for the little guy and his health (... and <i>my</i> health and spirits were lifted being around tons of other moms 'in the same boat'). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc2KpmSTLpNStWF1x2A0wiLTBwHfVZebNUUyWORJyUOqKGu25VO2TaGK5j3ASDRe13UV1myvFJHhJt20oKRnPCPpjyHPgpd4gJElxIDtZshEHo7idGdPpvbIrNm7fSfPb71SOCIZuRu8/s1600/Holding+Head+up+008a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc2KpmSTLpNStWF1x2A0wiLTBwHfVZebNUUyWORJyUOqKGu25VO2TaGK5j3ASDRe13UV1myvFJHhJt20oKRnPCPpjyHPgpd4gJElxIDtZshEHo7idGdPpvbIrNm7fSfPb71SOCIZuRu8/s400/Holding+Head+up+008a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Miller is getting more and more time on his tummy - and while he doesn't absolutely love it, he seems to put up with it, at least for a while. He's been getting super good at lifting his head up for long periods of time, both to the side and turning it forwards and back again. (it's the little things, right?)<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Mother's Day was not the only special day this week as the end of the week brought about Miller's first family birthday celebration - it was <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/miller-says-happy-birthday-grandad.html">his Grandpa's special day</a> and he celebrated it in style. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">We capped off the week with a relaxing weekend (as relaxing as they get with a to-do list that just keeps growing and an adorable 5 week old in the house) that included a quick trip to <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_874277463">our farmer's marke</a><a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/06/part-deux.html">t</a> where Chris and I couldn't help but succumb to the delicious French bakery vendor (we'll blame it on some friends we ran into who recommended such a thing) and freshly ground sausage (Buffalo bourbon and fennel!!). Miller was enamored as usual as he slept his way through the winding stalls and wafting smells of beautiful produce, fresh pastas and sauce, and delicious baked items. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">With another week in the books, I dare say it almost feels like we're getting into a routine. Miller and I get out at least every other day for an errand or an outing and as long as the weather holds, take walks at least once a day with him happily dangling his feet and arms in the Bjorn. I think I am finally settling into my new normal and am loving it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-78396776326118120732011-05-07T09:17:00.124-05:002011-05-14T22:02:08.268-05:00Firsts<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week four</i> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJaDP4U8ZxheTtiDrCxtDcegvRtIeGYTc32RKmeYTHdAo0Z0wc3U7viZpAfFhtd-3LB3aVX4MJXsoZVxbPQwPZJdkSxaD3kkvZXBhHPMFl0x68dFrz5eGIiiVBHByUgYO1VUJCllVfNk/s1600/Fourth+Week+012b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJaDP4U8ZxheTtiDrCxtDcegvRtIeGYTc32RKmeYTHdAo0Z0wc3U7viZpAfFhtd-3LB3aVX4MJXsoZVxbPQwPZJdkSxaD3kkvZXBhHPMFl0x68dFrz5eGIiiVBHByUgYO1VUJCllVfNk/s400/Fourth+Week+012b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">It's true, this whole year will be filled with firsts... I realize that. But still, I like to celebrate each and every one (that I remember, that is... sadly they are already slipping away). <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Also fitting to share and remember... something a wise friend shared with me recently (that you experienced moms have probably heard). <b>"The days are long but the years are short".</b> I've thought about this many times in the past few long (but so short!) weeks - every time I bemoan not having gotten more of <i>this </i>or <i>that </i>done (sorry blog... thank you notes... ) because I was spending time with our little guy, I am (sometimes) able to give myself a break realizing that I can never get this ever-so-fleeting time back. Sigh. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Now that we can move on from that moment of first-time mom sappiness - we'll move on to riveting events like our first trip to Giant. Sure we've been out and about... <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/04/miller-takes-on-target.html">Target</a> and Babies R Us had long-since been conquered, but momma and Miller hadn't yet conquered the grocery store (truthfully, I'm not sure how we've avoided it all these weeks). The trip was altogether uneventful until an innocent man shopping nearby started hacking a lung seemingly on top of my 4-week old baby. Germa-phobe I am not but we quickly moved out of his <i>way</i>. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWicrtNDp8Kt0jvkmyqmbXbgV-oabEz4eqYC2bfYU1Z6eADZBI32ZXpxd9B23hz0Ue-sbiAs0Ez0Y8vvu3ibkcxpvY35XDDrSNMVUuHlBxaWh91m5vzPvEm5vqsDlV1MUIlDabIX-pR4/s1600/Fourth+Week+009a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWicrtNDp8Kt0jvkmyqmbXbgV-oabEz4eqYC2bfYU1Z6eADZBI32ZXpxd9B23hz0Ue-sbiAs0Ez0Y8vvu3ibkcxpvY35XDDrSNMVUuHlBxaWh91m5vzPvEm5vqsDlV1MUIlDabIX-pR4/s400/Fourth+Week+009a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Another equally momentous occasion was <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/big-boy-fashion-model.html">the donning of Miller's first official 0-3 month outfit</a>. In all honesty, we could have marked this event quite a while ago but I was holding fast to a few newborn outfits that I adore. The little guy still gets stuffed in those on occasion but we've expanded his wardrobe in the meantime. I can hardly believe, though, that there is already a rapidly growing pile of clothes he's already grown out of. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTV7_T7yQ2jKa6J1LG5gjRXVuRPBuEPEWTT8gnqtl-f_U1iSplRoZQ8LI036DiHS6fHYNE9bghLtt7MmzEFcoff90FZa696gUFr1htQHga8VgKTXycVRbchCXlh4mFJaLmR4EVAOpqN0/s1600/Fourth+Week+006a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTV7_T7yQ2jKa6J1LG5gjRXVuRPBuEPEWTT8gnqtl-f_U1iSplRoZQ8LI036DiHS6fHYNE9bghLtt7MmzEFcoff90FZa696gUFr1htQHga8VgKTXycVRbchCXlh4mFJaLmR4EVAOpqN0/s400/Fourth+Week+006a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Later on in the week, Miller made his first official appearance (complete with motorcade) downtown on the Mall <i>and </i>coincidentally, his first (alumni) Wake Forest softball game. He and I were mere spectators but we cheered Chris and the team on wildly (as evidenced by the picture above - yes, there's a little Miller deep in that carseat). <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">And we were especially happy to be able <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/05/remembering-week-four.html">to finally give him a tub bath</a> since all remnants of umbilical cord had left us... after all, he was going to be making a number of special appearances (ha!) throughout the week. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YRQq5768MLiGVEhuCxXvnRJdgxtG2PJ1WDd3i5WAUQThtu1Ot36IeTDiORk_BfGBPsQgF07lJcl1GbeJeFDbjl-BNfHMcj2ZnoQF8G9zQMaIC-nY7I5lduU6XS_1YCLDiK_mvvnNVR8/s1600/Sondy+visits+001a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YRQq5768MLiGVEhuCxXvnRJdgxtG2PJ1WDd3i5WAUQThtu1Ot36IeTDiORk_BfGBPsQgF07lJcl1GbeJeFDbjl-BNfHMcj2ZnoQF8G9zQMaIC-nY7I5lduU6XS_1YCLDiK_mvvnNVR8/s400/Sondy+visits+001a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">We closed out the week with a few happy visits from family and friends... great-aunt Sondy, and cousins Laura and Debi came from all over the metro DC (and Richmond) area. <a href="http://applesncarrots.blogspot.com/">Megan, Ashley, and Piper</a>, came over to check on things. And <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/04/kevin-angie-and-iris.html">Kevin, Angie, and Iris</a>, stopped by from Baltimore. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Of course having parents who would eat Mexican food every day if they could, it was only fitting that Miller take a break from his his usual routine and celebrate Cinco de Mayo in style, at a neighborhood gathering, complete with a margarita in hand. He also slept through a rousing Kentucky Derby party Saturday afternoon but was proud to hear Animal Kingdom had taken the crown. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Week four was by far the most social of Miller's weeks thus far. Party or not, we are certainly enjoying every moment with our growing little guy... all the while attempting to remember each of them.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-66844504774164667452011-04-30T08:31:00.059-05:002011-05-06T15:16:30.910-05:00Settling In<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week three</i> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAv306awec0VECJoLEUnH27sZFxnTjp54vsJQshfhfnuPcbs-Bve62Pd98LO4aigo7f5qjUB0dCW6k3JtWnIq8ODIBpHOW4YlsqhmcbGNzXk2QdBwcEEivlyH-cDNLf-utfeu2EELlLCA/s1600/Easter+003a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAv306awec0VECJoLEUnH27sZFxnTjp54vsJQshfhfnuPcbs-Bve62Pd98LO4aigo7f5qjUB0dCW6k3JtWnIq8ODIBpHOW4YlsqhmcbGNzXk2QdBwcEEivlyH-cDNLf-utfeu2EELlLCA/s400/Easter+003a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">On our own... and survived to tell about it. I don't mean to be dramatic - or even say that I'm doing something spectacular here (heck, we have multiple friends with quite a few more than one child in their care so clearly I'm just barely breaking ground), but rather documenting that the day when my super duper helpful parents abandoned us (ha!) has come and gone. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">The first day of week three also marked Miller's first Easter... and it was sadly uneventful, noticeably without a visit to church, even, as these newbie parents were too chicken to make Easter our first showing back in the pews. Miller was the recipient of a small Easter bucket from his parents and a beach bucket from his grandparents - both containing adorably small versions of very useful items like a shovel, <a href="http://www.trumpette.com/socks?limit=all">Trumpette</a> socks (they really <i>are</i> the best although <a href="http://www.google.com/search?q=Jeffries+baby+socks&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=Y3R&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=ivns&source=univ&tbm=shop&tbo=u&ei=3VLETZmSIMjq0gGW85WsCA&sa=X&oi=product_result_group&ct=image&resnum=11&ved=0CJwBEMwDMAo">Jeffries</a> are a close second!), an Easter-story book, and sunglasses for an appearance at the beach later this summer. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NEawmJyjg8kOJS-PI-TiLU5ar2LWEuQdn7bC25JozenSpWWK8Gxpl4KbVJK8suqSxnkbbhLMAnm2Kt90fmXzY3u1Ooc-1cdRy9rIxS__xHKqcqmxr3BOSA7bklmjTFS6_kojTxYtp6g/s1600/Eastera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NEawmJyjg8kOJS-PI-TiLU5ar2LWEuQdn7bC25JozenSpWWK8Gxpl4KbVJK8suqSxnkbbhLMAnm2Kt90fmXzY3u1Ooc-1cdRy9rIxS__xHKqcqmxr3BOSA7bklmjTFS6_kojTxYtp6g/s400/Eastera.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Not to be overshadowed by such a Holy holiday was <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/04/remembering-week-three.html">Miller's first nap with Granddad</a>. Since Granddad is the expert in all things 'nap', it was only fitting that he introduce the young lad to the world of "watching TV with your eyes closed" (minus the TV).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB7Sk_PdfpctlL68-puzLnFZ1JpEbNpPkUsRIigY7v0SnRIx_dSE9Q_LUb_9LV3Q7u6akWryivP2YrbyZdsi37IFd8HlwdHEjap9EA183TKfqwd9VuTCRekAQAz74SjaXPOzgtP8W3zM/s1600/Third+Week+052a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB7Sk_PdfpctlL68-puzLnFZ1JpEbNpPkUsRIigY7v0SnRIx_dSE9Q_LUb_9LV3Q7u6akWryivP2YrbyZdsi37IFd8HlwdHEjap9EA183TKfqwd9VuTCRekAQAz74SjaXPOzgtP8W3zM/s400/Third+Week+052a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;">We also marked week three with the less photogenic event of Miller's umbilical cord (stump... the larger part has been long since gone) finally saying its last goodbyes. And with that, came daily bouts of tummy time and the start of a (diapering) lifetime of cloth diapers (which have already been an adventure, should anyone care to hear about it). </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9R3h7cj5iST3TSDUTh0OMJWzoJFRUElkfwikRFj_32HsPS1xsqwIsOwPlkHSk7V4sOaUkqne60rVnAtttKkffEuE8ooMh-W6N0ADsgtIrQf0qG6t9izg6lq5VDGKzLrd8zjk6V5iSml0/s1600/Third+Week+Photo+Shoot+012a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9R3h7cj5iST3TSDUTh0OMJWzoJFRUElkfwikRFj_32HsPS1xsqwIsOwPlkHSk7V4sOaUkqne60rVnAtttKkffEuE8ooMh-W6N0ADsgtIrQf0qG6t9izg6lq5VDGKzLrd8zjk6V5iSml0/s400/Third+Week+Photo+Shoot+012a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">And I'd be remiss not to include an outtake from our very impromptu and unprofessional photo shoot that I staged in the backyard. Not quite announcement (or frame) worthy but we happen to think this guy gets cuter each and every day - mouth-open (fly-catching) and all.</span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-54049609072797188222011-04-23T16:53:00.061-05:002011-04-27T08:34:00.159-05:00Trading Places<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week two</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapVXZY7zJZWuGX53jGDiTblpmHRR_1eUfzMMJR5mKrVGhr_3HlOG6bIU8XMum3KXWLBpYCgTlk2F6UZ93vhKnIfH65qqY5KyUwb5ovOJSDEtC8pfO482-WVz3pqDB6YQH2NDhc_9BVLs/s1600/Second+Week+021a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapVXZY7zJZWuGX53jGDiTblpmHRR_1eUfzMMJR5mKrVGhr_3HlOG6bIU8XMum3KXWLBpYCgTlk2F6UZ93vhKnIfH65qqY5KyUwb5ovOJSDEtC8pfO482-WVz3pqDB6YQH2NDhc_9BVLs/s400/Second+Week+021a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Moving right along seemed to be the theme of week two.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">It was off to a great start with Miller's first Easter egg hunt - and boy, was he good at watching the older kids chase down those eggs... it must have been soothing to the little guy because he saw about 0.3 seconds of the festivities before falling into a deep sleep for the rest of the afternoon. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5y7o19bV8UDc0pe-jhFUzDopuMqEsI5bn7btuHkAyYbLvFZ556dfj3-cPogyspSvvIBPGZ3z5pNkGkUOopLtqdeN9Bbw6nbqRRwp_KnQB4tNuDHNZ3KfVlUr1YfyIq3LKHpcoVuTErQ/s1600/MNO+Easter+Egg+Hunt+005a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5y7o19bV8UDc0pe-jhFUzDopuMqEsI5bn7btuHkAyYbLvFZ556dfj3-cPogyspSvvIBPGZ3z5pNkGkUOopLtqdeN9Bbw6nbqRRwp_KnQB4tNuDHNZ3KfVlUr1YfyIq3LKHpcoVuTErQ/s400/MNO+Easter+Egg+Hunt+005a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">He also made his first official appearance in our local Target. I dare say he doesn't remember much as we ran there mid-nap time, but <a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/2011/04/miller-takes-on-target.html">we did show him the $1 aisle</a> to get him started on learning about frugality. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Then we hit Thursday. This time it was the new momma's turn to be sick. Thursday night brought light-headedness and feverish feelings which apparently were the precursor (God's warning?) to Friday morning's 101.9 degree temperature. Parenthood apparently gives a sense of urgency so it didn't take more than 5 minutes for yours truly to be on the phone with the doctor and shortly after a quick appointment, antibiotics and Tylenol started working their magic. Crisis averted. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYWmqj5FUsrsTxN1_VHcfte1qjHmjXEFlwCE_JSyZ8X0Sjx7fPbeaU4s-rFO8aSVSRq0wcYK1uBibMOcLLeLM-T9J9UabEWTic7QnElbLTr-jYZudNbe3yV6RjL0wdTHwAJ6sumy1FE4/s1600/MNO+Easter+Egg+Hunt+003a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYWmqj5FUsrsTxN1_VHcfte1qjHmjXEFlwCE_JSyZ8X0Sjx7fPbeaU4s-rFO8aSVSRq0wcYK1uBibMOcLLeLM-T9J9UabEWTic7QnElbLTr-jYZudNbe3yV6RjL0wdTHwAJ6sumy1FE4/s400/MNO+Easter+Egg+Hunt+003a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Just as fast as <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/04/triumphant.html">week one</a> started, week two was over. I can already tell this is going to go by <i>way WAY</i> too quickly. I may or may not have asked Chris a few times how to make sure our little man stops growing and never wants to leave home but gotten less than adequate answers so I guess I'm left to continue soaking it up for as long as I can.</span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-89616397059946972252011-04-16T21:51:00.003-05:002011-04-26T16:55:47.944-05:00Triumphant<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>week one</i> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_YYfuI-VSUyzDuCizgyK2vKGpdaJOcZ72lW9Kt8lLmd2ry34BNZkbGItLlUVluzCJAGhQY8JN-mCzsbdpWAk03wqmhySrMrPsLg6kthHYgYO6_danhewb8PpQ4jAVHmKzgIDAR3-cOg/s1600/Pre-Baby+2011+064a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_YYfuI-VSUyzDuCizgyK2vKGpdaJOcZ72lW9Kt8lLmd2ry34BNZkbGItLlUVluzCJAGhQY8JN-mCzsbdpWAk03wqmhySrMrPsLg6kthHYgYO6_danhewb8PpQ4jAVHmKzgIDAR3-cOg/s400/Pre-Baby+2011+064a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><b>Miller Joseph</b> joined our little family April 9, 2011 at the early hour of 3:07am.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Our first week together was quite eventful - perhaps not exactly how I saw week one of parenting going but we made it.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">After arriving home from the hospital, we soon learned that our sweet little one was jaundiced and would require daily pediatrician visits. Along with those visits came a whole new set of vocabulary including "bilirubin" and "bili-blanket"... <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyqkpdIzT3vpft1fW16teP1T0I1k3PwWx02jLe5A8ec6T7qtASTi1O_H3GsDv7mdW5SqufYDcRS3QTUnPwpQEPSzNhyP3qNWCLpHkKS73O8KWYo_rmr1-vujGK9y-f4li6a7SIPRtWOw/s1600/April+9+2011+002a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyqkpdIzT3vpft1fW16teP1T0I1k3PwWx02jLe5A8ec6T7qtASTi1O_H3GsDv7mdW5SqufYDcRS3QTUnPwpQEPSzNhyP3qNWCLpHkKS73O8KWYo_rmr1-vujGK9y-f4li6a7SIPRtWOw/s400/April+9+2011+002a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Miller was more or less quarantined to his nursery attached to his "space suit" and affectionately named our "blue light special".<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Along with the bili-blanket came daily heel pricks - which, we think, he took like a champ.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsr8ZCvIYdMFvIg0f3kOqmJ9-niPCkakVw6v2P-8xSztup13IhuQzbzmi3vGvjGglrWBENryXCQ6wxEl9MmKLwm9ltk4hqbaKibuaEKvBMlcZ-mN62QNqm_1sGwDMCUeLaWWfzsZfaHg/s1600/Blue+outfit+008a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsr8ZCvIYdMFvIg0f3kOqmJ9-niPCkakVw6v2P-8xSztup13IhuQzbzmi3vGvjGglrWBENryXCQ6wxEl9MmKLwm9ltk4hqbaKibuaEKvBMlcZ-mN62QNqm_1sGwDMCUeLaWWfzsZfaHg/s400/Blue+outfit+008a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Thankfully, on the morning of his seventh day - our doctor delivered Miller's news of freedom. His bilirubin levels had fallen completely and he weighed in above his birth weight. Must be a new parent thing because we literally high-fived and I almost hugged the doctor. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">And so went Miller's first week. Doctor's appointments and all, we couldn't be happier that he's finally arrived. Parenthood is already the hardest job I've ever had but I wouldn't trade it for the world.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>*<a href="http://karaandchris.blogspot.com/">looking for less words and more pictures? </a></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-68470407226039354032011-01-12T07:07:00.085-05:002011-01-12T11:08:58.262-05:00Barnyard Bash<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Sick of <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/01/no-show.html">unrecognizable black and white pictures</a> of random baby body parts? And before that, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-beginning-to-look-little-like.html">some less than fantastic pictures</a> of a girl documenting the sad state of her belly (although maybe good for a laugh?)?<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Trust me when I say that you're not the only one(s?) ready for pictures of more than just a piece of paper with a black and white image (although for clarification's sake, I feel it necessary to say that I don't mean we are ready for the baby... au contraire). It's just that I have pictures of faraway lands, cute kids, and even some tasty concoctions - yet week after week, I've failed to share them. That all changes today. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQIm5Gbd8hI/AAAAAAAAE68/jA9h8QOe04g/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+058a.jpg" width="265" /><span id="goog_2118613598"></span><span id="goog_2118613599"></span></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Back in (ah-hem) October, a certain (not-so) little boy turned five and the occasion was celebrated with a backyard, barnyard bash. And a bash it was... I think I may have mentioned before that my sister-in-law doesn't hold back when it comes to her babies' birthdays - and really, can you blame her?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQkR7smT6PI/AAAAAAAAFD8/6xGi6hW8KDU/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQkR7smT6PI/AAAAAAAAFD8/6xGi6hW8KDU/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Aren't I nice and thoughtful, too... sharing pictures of a clear, crisp fall day when you are most certainly looking out upon a sea of white (or once-white, now gray slush). This might also be known as my very poor excuse for being a coupla' <i>months </i>behind. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQIpPKwf57I/AAAAAAAAE8Q/bKjL_9feOTk/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+077a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQIpPKwf57I/AAAAAAAAE8Q/bKjL_9feOTk/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+077a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9FZlD8ClanUEzZ7-f5ZafRasWsp5qAelaGYQOiSJ0H7jEK-BG3QL8Eb9o9VOFCMUtAwUo_W8i_pn-MrR2KdEXHQjgDfMc06JkruQogwfbH8i0uKxcUSgTyWzqtJyFB-di3aQyuTMzQI/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+013a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9FZlD8ClanUEzZ7-f5ZafRasWsp5qAelaGYQOiSJ0H7jEK-BG3QL8Eb9o9VOFCMUtAwUo_W8i_pn-MrR2KdEXHQjgDfMc06JkruQogwfbH8i0uKxcUSgTyWzqtJyFB-di3aQyuTMzQI/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+013a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQGc1J8DD2I/AAAAAAAAE4I/TV6IyqrmXgY/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+013a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">As is (hopefully) evident, not a single detail was left out of this birthday celebration. The kids were decked out in barnyard-related costume, there was a pig pen, chicken coop and feeding area (not to mention <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/12/so-youre-saying-theres-chance.html">a needs-no-explanation precious chickie, Miss Sarah Taylor, herself</a>), stuffed scarecrows, hay bales as seats, more cookout fare than you can imagine to go around, and a huge cake aptly decorated with everything farm-related that one can imagine (and believe me, Charlie "imagined").<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQIqotMTHCI/AAAAAAAAE9U/Gg7-wDX5ArU/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+092a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQIqotMTHCI/AAAAAAAAE9U/Gg7-wDX5ArU/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+092a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQGdixOOImI/AAAAAAAAE40/TTldrWFojnc/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+021b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQGdixOOImI/AAAAAAAAE40/TTldrWFojnc/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+021b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">It's pretty clear that I have a lot to learn in the world of childrens' parties - as I've learned that they just don't appreciate a nice blue-cheese appetizer or pork tenderloin as much as an Oreo-crusted, barnyard-decorated, yellow sheet cake. No one mistakes me for <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/">Martha</a> as it is but this could take some getting used to.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQGekriLLgI/AAAAAAAAE5s/psq1ubvZTb8/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+036a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQGekriLLgI/AAAAAAAAE5s/psq1ubvZTb8/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+036a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">So in the meanwhile (i.e. <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/baby">the next less than three months!!</a>), I'm happy to sit back and watch and (try and) learn while enjoying (others'!) kids... and of course, play resident (amateur... very amateur) photographer.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-12273387799693196922011-01-05T17:06:00.003-05:002011-01-05T17:23:47.303-05:00No Show<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Both in an effort to (finally) get <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-beginning-to-look-little-like.html">those awful pictures of me</a> from staring back at you (and me, too!) and well, to move on... in the spirit of the new year and all... I present you with the latest in our baby adventures 'round here. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtoBdEIjwfu5ef4Bsf3BYEE9jeXRwIVEYEajp3Xc9WdzC8h1fwUHNnohzLDLqtb8ZDL1bXSPN8znU2SJ-IZyLrfZoPfUIbIFfJ3XAx3iHCDG-pyUoomBN5_y_WMB3dHb27JdSFgGu__E/s1600/Sono+28+weeks+003a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtoBdEIjwfu5ef4Bsf3BYEE9jeXRwIVEYEajp3Xc9WdzC8h1fwUHNnohzLDLqtb8ZDL1bXSPN8znU2SJ-IZyLrfZoPfUIbIFfJ3XAx3iHCDG-pyUoomBN5_y_WMB3dHb27JdSFgGu__E/s400/Sono+28+weeks+003a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">What we have for you today is a <i>riveting </i>picture of two little (hopefully pudgy - or soon-to-be) feet... one flexed and one with what are sure to be the most adorable little toes curled up. And, if you're thinking... really, you had a sonogram and chose a picture of the feet to share with us? In fact, this is actually all we got (although our baby was kicking up a storm throughout the appointment, he/she remained face down the entire time and wouldn't budge) - so... that's all <i>you</i> get!<br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Lest you are (yaaawnnn) growing weary of <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/baby">all the baby talk</a>... I can promise more and better (looking) and even tastier things... soon. Or kinda soon.</span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-30173814602345794152010-12-22T16:10:00.005-05:002010-12-23T09:28:52.978-05:00It's Beginning to Look a Little Like...<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Hope you're prepared for a wild calamity of self-portraits. It seems that while no one told me it was so hard to take a decent "belly shot", the fact that I stayed so far from them for the past 25+ weeks would indicate that perhaps this is just one of those "motherly instincts" (insert laughter here... oh, and when exactly <i>do</i> those motherly instincts kick in?). <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Not only will these be the absolute worst pictures (from an aesthetic <i>and</i> technical standpoint - double whammy!) that I'll be forced into sharing, they will also serve as the content for the post with the most pictures of myself included. And very quickly you will discover why I'd much rather take pictures of <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/family">faces like these</a>, than my kinda-sorta (?) expanding mid-section... and equally fast, you will be thanking me. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Here we start with the horribly off-centered picture... the picture with Kara making a weird face (that's my "how in the heck do people take these pictures?" face)... let's try it with the hand down... or is the key to pull a 180!?! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIchCVsoSHYmKAOPI9FYvKahSUGO3DcUfOaxPRW07y0CEhyv6GWeK6CUjCWtgubNSsVi0-VgjSGdNFK5MHTgZvqanu6dK0S6FLOP5WBCYbNkTaexl_Z5tLM03BO93KR4A5fzRx_wkVVWE/s1600/25+weeks+outtakes+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIchCVsoSHYmKAOPI9FYvKahSUGO3DcUfOaxPRW07y0CEhyv6GWeK6CUjCWtgubNSsVi0-VgjSGdNFK5MHTgZvqanu6dK0S6FLOP5WBCYbNkTaexl_Z5tLM03BO93KR4A5fzRx_wkVVWE/s400/25+weeks+outtakes+collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Maybe it's having the hand on hip... and black and white?</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKeg9JHpELChQaAdIxEfv9pZatPgUkotb9lzPhtWMr9k_bVm1ckCcrcU6UOBZgrxgOS0njd2ZKZjnebaMXhftA6i_ntTaxnnuS2QOzeEF9rijkCfT_9rHFjHQrL8SNaMIa0lNPLGVpg0/s1600/25+wks+017a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKeg9JHpELChQaAdIxEfv9pZatPgUkotb9lzPhtWMr9k_bVm1ckCcrcU6UOBZgrxgOS0njd2ZKZjnebaMXhftA6i_ntTaxnnuS2QOzeEF9rijkCfT_9rHFjHQrL8SNaMIa0lNPLGVpg0/s400/25+wks+017a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">At last, something semi-reasonable... after I called for reinforcement... </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSsgXHYDwhLOy4K202pMM4o3g0p9t8Rz-3jK6gMBh5qjoYya7SN-usPRaA1w6_6dJsnb2Z8o-AelTkrXWO8QP08o-4gOEcdIjnpa6iZTMiViPiTOYzNvnxvn-09ShJ3OABipEkhgGAiE/s1600/25+week+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSsgXHYDwhLOy4K202pMM4o3g0p9t8Rz-3jK6gMBh5qjoYya7SN-usPRaA1w6_6dJsnb2Z8o-AelTkrXWO8QP08o-4gOEcdIjnpa6iZTMiViPiTOYzNvnxvn-09ShJ3OABipEkhgGAiE/s400/25+week+collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Yup, that's all I've got to show for 25+ weeks of growing our little one. And with that, I will stumble back into the kitchen to take pictures of inanimate objects... or maybe just drown myself in the massive amount of dust I must clean before family arrives. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">PS - it's true, shame on us... we haven't done a darn thing with <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/04/round-here.html">that guest room I begged for suggestions on eons ago</a><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">PPS - if you expect to receive a Christmas present from us, please don't study the items on the bed too carefully as that was our staging ground for gifts... which are all beautifully wrapped and waiting under our tree now (or they were in my vivid pregnancy dream last night)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-63528353900418706702010-12-13T22:09:00.007-05:002010-12-16T09:26:18.117-05:00A New Tradition<span style="line-height: 1.2;">If you've been around here longer than a day or two, you are probably expecting to hear all about another one of our family's <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/12/feels-like-home.html">recent weekends in Philly</a>... watching Navy pummel (sorry to any Army fans... but it's the truth) Army <a href="http://collegefootballtalk.nbcsports.com/2010/12/11/midshipment-make-it-nine-in-a-row-but-army-navy-still-matters/">for the 9th year in a row</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj-gvOtceI/AAAAAAAAFCM/7q4m3FHl6ic/s1600/Laying+Wreaths+2010+015a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj-gvOtceI/AAAAAAAAFCM/7q4m3FHl6ic/s400/Laying+Wreaths+2010+015a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">For the first time in ages... and I won't even attempt a quick count... <b>no members of my family were in attendance</b>. No <a href="http://www.jimssteaks.com/">Jim's cheesesteaks</a> (provolone, mushrooms and onions for mom and me... Cheez-Whiz and onions for Chris and dad) Friday night... no inhumanely freezing cold game Saturday... and sigh, no <a href="http://www.google.com/maps/place?cid=3625833073357140774&q=la+viola+Philadelphia&fb=1&gl=us&hq=la+viola&hnear=Philadelphia,+PA">La Viola</a> (weep... <a href="http://carolyndaniel.blogspot.com/">Carolyn</a>, I know you feel our pain) post-game heavy Italian delicious-ness. Aside from all the food that we (clearly) very sorely missed, I must admit within the first 5 minutes of the televised broadcast, I had commented no less than twice that perhaps this game <i>was </i>better watched from the comfort (read: warmth) of our own home. The video intros were well thought-out, touching and patriotic, I could multi-task - in and out of the kitchen pulling Christmas cookies out of the oven, and did I mention, it was <i>so warm</i>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj9O67Z8sI/AAAAAAAAFA8/pB9AHzgesm8/s1600/Laying+Wreaths+2010+002a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj9O67Z8sI/AAAAAAAAFA8/pB9AHzgesm8/s400/Laying+Wreaths+2010+002a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Warm at gametime, I should clarify. <a href="http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/Locations/Virginia/360-Arlington-National-Cemetery/View-details.html">Where we found ourselves</a> very early Saturday morning, however, was decidedly <i>not</i> warm. I'll blame my wishy-washiness on <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/baby">pregnancy</a> and hormones but in the moment, I <i>may</i> have even said "I'd rather be in Philly," though we all know how that would have worked out in the end. Cold or warm, there aren't many places I would have rather been than with the other thousands of volunteers at <a href="http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/Locations/Virginia/360-Arlington-National-Cemetery/View-details.html">Arlington National Cemetery</a>, laying wreaths on around 24,000 graves of our veterans and their family members. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQkDSGmGu2I/AAAAAAAAFDE/EibyAG6wpVg/s1600/Laying+Wreaths+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQkDSGmGu2I/AAAAAAAAFDE/EibyAG6wpVg/s400/Laying+Wreaths+collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Chris had read about this wonderful volunteer opportunity through our alumni group, <a href="http://dcalum.org/">CAN</a>, and we jumped at the chance once we realized that for the first time in ages, we'd actually be in town on the big weekend. <br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Never say never, of course, but I'm tempted to declare that we've found a new tradition, even possibly in the face of missing our beloved Army-Navy... the idea of bringing our kid(s) with us, having them lay their own wreaths and explaining the sacrifice and courage that these men and women put forth for the freedoms that we enjoy each and everyday, is all but decided upon (though the jury is still out on how we will best be able to participate next year... wear the 8-month old or push him/her in the stroller?). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj9gB3ZB3I/AAAAAAAAFBc/w1dokovb_mE/s1600/Laying+Wreaths+2010+007b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vmkmoPqV8Pc/TQj9gB3ZB3I/AAAAAAAAFBc/w1dokovb_mE/s400/Laying+Wreaths+2010+007b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>**I'm not in anyway affiliated with <a href="http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/">Wreaths Across America</a>, but just in case you are interested (there are tons of non-DC wreath laying ceremonies and donation opportunities), in helping out, <a href="http://www.wreathsacrossamerica.org/">click here</a>.</i></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-10767238918149900072010-12-02T07:42:00.003-05:002010-12-02T13:55:53.836-05:00So You're Saying There's a Chance...<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Someone assure me that my brother didn't get all the cute baby-making genes in this family. There's gotta be some smidgen of a percentage that our baby might look like this. Right... right?? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEivRPbi7bJFp-cnNgMK088XLRpz41b2hJagB29kpNvCQBgbGmzk3timjTYB_bmk24CrSWZnaeErkQ3hKLyWWc8Lib0UX1CwesR2nZ41sk8I8CVr1ASCckWqCLH3zAzXaEpgBAMzHNSc/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+070a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEivRPbi7bJFp-cnNgMK088XLRpz41b2hJagB29kpNvCQBgbGmzk3timjTYB_bmk24CrSWZnaeErkQ3hKLyWWc8Lib0UX1CwesR2nZ41sk8I8CVr1ASCckWqCLH3zAzXaEpgBAMzHNSc/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+070a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Or at least this... I mean, there's no denying that one of the (main) reasons I'm carrying around this (shockingly only 1 lb.) bebe is for a chance at cheeks like these... <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jd-Anz9iDeUluyoG6i22iycP3ZdT85MK9FXO47gsJpWu4az1LUnyycbLBDj7pgiVu2eueZabrH13Fb5QI-IoaTgI6sD-NVcegrxxbIbuEA4M07TmvH4x6jxyrmXPBlDoMQ4IOoIRtzE/s1600/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+063a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jd-Anz9iDeUluyoG6i22iycP3ZdT85MK9FXO47gsJpWu4az1LUnyycbLBDj7pgiVu2eueZabrH13Fb5QI-IoaTgI6sD-NVcegrxxbIbuEA4M07TmvH4x6jxyrmXPBlDoMQ4IOoIRtzE/s400/Charlie%2527s+5th+birthday+063a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i> </i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>**You think <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=Sarah+Taylor">this one</a> is cute? There's more where she comes from...</i></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-24363158692189038682010-11-29T17:34:00.019-05:002010-11-30T13:06:43.165-05:00Fancy Meeting You Here<span style="line-height: 1.2;">The fact that the pictures staring back at you this holiday season (and the many months leading up to it) have been of (albeit adorable) kids frolicking in a crystal blue pool on a very warm summer (ah-hem, July) day is not (and has not been) lost on me. Rest assured that it's bothered me undoubtedly more than you (anal-much, Kara?)... even perfectionism aside, I have (had) so much to share!</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl9ZyOlLPhOanT7oq_G2e_06WotkUF7fNRhfqBWuXr7jn_VXqbz5ozf8O9MARZsvVEbOplQdRz4nZ52GBBO4Yto2bKwdLihL7p2-VYhu0pReCwUDUIVIlH7KDcVRjq1DgiTDvvTukybU/s1600/The+latest+004a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Right out of the gate, let's get the 'where have you beens' out of the way. For the most part, that answer is right here... even in this very seat, though clearly not <i>here </i>with you. Then what could possibly have filled such a void? I'm not altogether sure what this means (it's me, not you... I assure you), but I quickly jam-packed the time I used to spend here (and admittedly reading any number of related <i>and</i> unrelated other blogs) without batting an eyelash. In fact, more than once I wondered how I had ever found the (embarrassingly extensive amounts of) time (and to be honest, more accurately, how <i>you all</i> continue to find your devoted time) to show up here. And while it's true that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder, once I'd been <i>gone</i> for a while, it became harder and harder to right the ship.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Seriously, Kara? That's all you've got to say for yourself?</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Not entirely... okay, not even partially. It is, and/or was, and/or will almost always forever and ever be about this...</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl9ZyOlLPhOanT7oq_G2e_06WotkUF7fNRhfqBWuXr7jn_VXqbz5ozf8O9MARZsvVEbOplQdRz4nZ52GBBO4Yto2bKwdLihL7p2-VYhu0pReCwUDUIVIlH7KDcVRjq1DgiTDvvTukybU/s1600/The+latest+004a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYl9ZyOlLPhOanT7oq_G2e_06WotkUF7fNRhfqBWuXr7jn_VXqbz5ozf8O9MARZsvVEbOplQdRz4nZ52GBBO4Yto2bKwdLihL7p2-VYhu0pReCwUDUIVIlH7KDcVRjq1DgiTDvvTukybU/s400/The+latest+004a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Sure, aside from the initial three month-schedule of make-it-through-the-day and then rush-home-to-sleep... and repeat... we've also set foot in three (or four, depending on which one of us you ask) new countries, been busier than ever with work (not complaining, we are grateful for our jobs), nervously entered the world of photo shoots (and edited... and edited some more, said pictures), survived <a href="http://wakeforestsports.cstv.com/sports/m-footbl/wake-m-footbl-body.html">a sub par football season</a> and if possible, an only occasionally more exciting Redskins season, and visited family and friends, local and distant... but when it comes down to it, everything in the past 5 months has revolved around a few black and white (sometimes cuddly cute, usually scarily skeletal-looking) images that I cling to like super-glue (that those images represent a (hopefully) tiny, little person that I'm going to have to deliver, and keep alive (!!), come early April 2011 are details I choose not to, ah-hem, <i>dwell</i> on, right now).</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Though now that the cat is out of the bag, if you did some quick calculations, you will quickly discover I'm more than a bit tardy in my announcement (today happily marks 22-weeks and then some!). While the first few months of silence were 100% for you (believe me when I say I had <i>nothing</i> of interest to utter about food, or life in general, except "I feel gross... there should be something edible in the fridge if you're hungry" or "I'm tired"), the rest was selfishly for yours truly.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">And even though I'm back, I make no promises what my presence around <i>these parts</i> will look like. I can guarantee you a variety of whatever's on this scattered brain of mine - and it may be just that, as I've missed writing... but I'll attempt perhaps a recipe or two (though taking pictures of food is less than interesting to me these days), recaps of our travels, some thoughts about how things around here (i.e. me, probably, if I'm brave enough... and our house) are changing and probably some ramblings on what we've gotten ourselves into, surely including more than one plea for someone to reassure me (even if you have to lie) "yes, you <i>will</i> be able to do this thing called motherhood".</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Of course we'll also show you how we're planning on turning this room... (in it's current state)</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfLU-dYj0psSo8rtdXp72kwVAjKG5dZQi9PFuidpDrnIeUF0y3sfCcNCfgwJNRAbT1wmSfuJepJYQPgMyba_qFPc_zB4qI2kEn7Zf1fQKk8sef1CqkUifpFOzK9Ugdg40fAxrmM0XljY/s1600/The+latest+002a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfLU-dYj0psSo8rtdXp72kwVAjKG5dZQi9PFuidpDrnIeUF0y3sfCcNCfgwJNRAbT1wmSfuJepJYQPgMyba_qFPc_zB4qI2kEn7Zf1fQKk8sef1CqkUifpFOzK9Ugdg40fAxrmM0XljY/s400/The+latest+002a.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlslGIq3Lbstsq2bhMo1fZDu4lMUIvcjLzYmzzpCSI6bHByX-7ZL0RGEel-lkZIM8GBTHzqImYkP9o30Q0MMcj0_LPXpfdqfuVWyYLaGv2IpkmjF3XoNKge9mKMbFDLeKH1IxB7e6SxYk/s1600/The+latest+001a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlslGIq3Lbstsq2bhMo1fZDu4lMUIvcjLzYmzzpCSI6bHByX-7ZL0RGEel-lkZIM8GBTHzqImYkP9o30Q0MMcj0_LPXpfdqfuVWyYLaGv2IpkmjF3XoNKge9mKMbFDLeKH1IxB7e6SxYk/s400/The+latest+001a.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 1.2;">... into a <i>home</i> suitable for our little one, with the bonus challenge of not knowing whether April will shower us with a boy or girl. If I do say so myself, though, I think we're reconnected at just the right time in the life of this project... as decisions are (finally) being made and this momma-to-be feels like it might actually come together before our child can walk.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Without a doubt there will be pictures... of us and our families, anything we eat that I think you might have enjoyed the leftovers, our house (and any fun projects that I continue to dream of us finishing before we are <i>otherwise</i> occupied), other innocent people who agree to let me take their pictures, and our recent travels. Through it all, please chime in with any questions about something I gloss over in an effort not to bore you to death (as I'm aware I've done here).</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Sure my friends probably haven't recognized me without a camera in hand at every meal and event we've shared recently... and it was fun while it lasted but truth be told, I missed it and couldn't be happier to be back. So there you have it... the last "too many" weeks in a (rather long) nutshell... I only wish it'd passed <i>that </i>quickly in real life because for a while there, I'd forgotten how nice (and productive) it is to stay up past 8pm and eat more than toast and yogurt (<i>and</i> the occasional potato chip) all day. If you're still here with us now... a hearty thanks and we'll see you soon!</span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-75694694110286053162010-07-28T20:40:00.007-05:002010-11-29T16:15:05.779-05:00Water Babies<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Spending the afternoon at the pool with <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/family">my favorite little people</a> (well, two of them at least) brought back a flood of memories.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLquraqmDxhZxDsxGqzeWOtMQwhkSSwwHuLPVbFRAJPU4n0IYbgKKOSEw7jc9cGXVyeyMPS_0-1wo_ibY0ztUuc9MrYMr7Mso8siEv5ZT3Vjtzb8vg2guFAy49Y0TtDUtxmk5PfopRzM/s1600/Waterbaby4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495668686922242146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLquraqmDxhZxDsxGqzeWOtMQwhkSSwwHuLPVbFRAJPU4n0IYbgKKOSEw7jc9cGXVyeyMPS_0-1wo_ibY0ztUuc9MrYMr7Mso8siEv5ZT3Vjtzb8vg2guFAy49Y0TtDUtxmk5PfopRzM/s400/Waterbaby4.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRymHeKVEIMJLglht68u1z7qlNurQnvat57nqu8ynWjMoXVN7KNTQMuPGHzG2Qt3LY17t38NCUU90c7FNh9YhZNyh8I_YFt8JNZQiEgxwQLhji6tgqCFYT5hCX6r1gNB2pea6aqAu-ZqI/s1600/Waterbaby7.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495671450137062802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRymHeKVEIMJLglht68u1z7qlNurQnvat57nqu8ynWjMoXVN7KNTQMuPGHzG2Qt3LY17t38NCUU90c7FNh9YhZNyh8I_YFt8JNZQiEgxwQLhji6tgqCFYT5hCX6r1gNB2pea6aqAu-ZqI/s400/Waterbaby7.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">So much of my childhood was spent at our neighborhood pool - weekly summer swim meets (which also meant an introduction to sugary candy and a fear of loud, startling noises, like the Starter's gun), birthday parties (if you were lucky), and when we were <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> luckiest, days that turned into evenings when my mom would call for us on the main pool phone (am I dating myself?) with the welcome news that she and my dad would be bringing down dinner... to be eaten poolside, probably at adult swim, so we didn't miss a minute of time in the water.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1QmDohEAXpMk7K5HC3sfGe4TPeHCmMIGKCJQmdMS3ogPqDYhwS-D9NjEBbPF5EVANePHkcFaObFXtM9x9eAS7XC2tOUkt2q50UIA4iBDLtmVszKny6Jq78csQbQrWu4r1mEvdclER-g/s1600/Waterbaby6.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495668703990123634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1QmDohEAXpMk7K5HC3sfGe4TPeHCmMIGKCJQmdMS3ogPqDYhwS-D9NjEBbPF5EVANePHkcFaObFXtM9x9eAS7XC2tOUkt2q50UIA4iBDLtmVszKny6Jq78csQbQrWu4r1mEvdclER-g/s400/Waterbaby6.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUq7vQAH8aITAJEzIAVrVC2VHpFYpofM5ZtQ4Ree7oWLLQck0d5nHIt1OU9BdtopAQwvh8JRmd6-AZ6efjcFcOviqHlIQaBPSMszC_5SwkNs_M3ZB_9silUqhJuz960BY22Ki9iT4hlcA/s1600/Waterbaby2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495667587963462370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUq7vQAH8aITAJEzIAVrVC2VHpFYpofM5ZtQ4Ree7oWLLQck0d5nHIt1OU9BdtopAQwvh8JRmd6-AZ6efjcFcOviqHlIQaBPSMszC_5SwkNs_M3ZB_9silUqhJuz960BY22Ki9iT4hlcA/s400/Waterbaby2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">It also reminded me of the less happy memory of the huge hill that we had to bike up in order to return home each evening. The hill that had been all laughs and a strong breeze as I had flown down it with barely a care in the world earlier that morning. And to think... I thought life was <span style="font-style: italic;">hard </span>just because I had to walk my bike up a steep incline?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Dk3MlzNZzi6MqSyxYZ7KBaznd0RDHWiHzT-57cpzmRqiZX5cwZnZDdq_Q3C75MmfkyVPyjk0_pX-sq7OaU4J4bydnidEILFYvwPbfcOoiYU35plyajeWHjfi_Z_pi6lRtO0tr0da9wg/s1600/Waterbaby5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495668691021073362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Dk3MlzNZzi6MqSyxYZ7KBaznd0RDHWiHzT-57cpzmRqiZX5cwZnZDdq_Q3C75MmfkyVPyjk0_pX-sq7OaU4J4bydnidEILFYvwPbfcOoiYU35plyajeWHjfi_Z_pi6lRtO0tr0da9wg/s400/Waterbaby5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Seeing these two swim around, with the water splashing across their faces... all received with nothing but laughs... seemed to wash all our cares away. Sure Charlie didn't love being submerged and Caroline's life jacket made it hard for her to swim as much as she'd have liked... but the raw emotion and excitement they both had with each step into the relative unknown was undeniable and I couldn't have been happier to be there... with them, with family.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdfk09Gc2a5iOaYy20hU6ayjVPbk3DNQ_IgYZf0hNSwnMwdBhALR6A-HpHhoONj85neAmwk4OiSpQZUR6gf0vHDUwOcUS7NAN4fxM_cQcSfWbcnXjM1sFXpJRuMLDuOF-tWYgRjUNMMo/s1600/Waterbaby.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495666923992144098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdfk09Gc2a5iOaYy20hU6ayjVPbk3DNQ_IgYZf0hNSwnMwdBhALR6A-HpHhoONj85neAmwk4OiSpQZUR6gf0vHDUwOcUS7NAN4fxM_cQcSfWbcnXjM1sFXpJRuMLDuOF-tWYgRjUNMMo/s400/Waterbaby.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRPjU689StzjUPgvYXVRfrfqqfeVW8ifFnDlPRENPNnS9leEjkm09VmatRq53Ypvm4dojiMJ2CTzyzwWQnH9AwqL5PYrblvwhHk9-3g8IBKzN3j88HIfJ96jfsdntxmNezmPJ-LbfScs/s1600/Waterbaby1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495667580381860562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRPjU689StzjUPgvYXVRfrfqqfeVW8ifFnDlPRENPNnS9leEjkm09VmatRq53Ypvm4dojiMJ2CTzyzwWQnH9AwqL5PYrblvwhHk9-3g8IBKzN3j88HIfJ96jfsdntxmNezmPJ-LbfScs/s400/Waterbaby1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">It's afternoons (and sweet kids) like this that make any amount of work worthwhile. <span style="font-style: italic;">You</span> try and be a grumpy adult with one of these smiles staring back at you.</span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-91268072312001826762010-07-22T07:04:00.002-05:002010-08-02T13:28:18.734-05:00No Pictures, Please<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i> Recipe: Whatever-You've-Got-Quesadillas</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">If for nothing else, this post is dedicated to the fact that I truly do take pictures of (almost) everything that comes out of our kitchen... and that I know it's annoying (sorry?). Though most meals (thrown together using whatever is in the fridge) are immediately deemed too insignificant for <span style="font-style: italic;">the blog</span>, with our strictly formal atmosphere and all. Thus, the sometimes fluorescent-lit - tsk, tsk, I realize, but folks, we eat dinner <span style="font-style: italic;">at night</span> and as such, <span style="font-style: italic;">when there is little to no daylight</span> - photos become just more - and more - practice shots (which I suppose, I'm the better for, though my work might indicate otherwise).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzb92VYhNvT_K9CC_lCXCxz3E7WyslPGtldfy_FJhB_gcqhIhrlR3Ylt-wqdfhMr0G1lsbRMwxmqhdFeZjLtW5Lfj0XBnPRVxmShYRCwUOWuRjQSUSsQ9Xz36Mm5vqxIoPQ5scPlPQ9g/s1600/Quesa3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495657017278616178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzb92VYhNvT_K9CC_lCXCxz3E7WyslPGtldfy_FJhB_gcqhIhrlR3Ylt-wqdfhMr0G1lsbRMwxmqhdFeZjLtW5Lfj0XBnPRVxmShYRCwUOWuRjQSUSsQ9Xz36Mm5vqxIoPQ5scPlPQ9g/s400/Quesa3.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">It must be noted, while we're here, that spouses of those of us who <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> play paparazzi with their dinners should be awarded medals. What else can you say for someone who sits patiently as I photograph each (mundane) step of (any-ole) dinner and then snap even more pictures as the meal sits (getting cold), all the while, certainly anticipating that first bite.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37lQx6etID-4cpQcW2JKK_NJELHxdoBHuTokIdc18GWov1F5e5rEVBZMVKEe4S30KSObhg1JjjJiw7MazUoBvOrxJUTsX4NTP70_rv1ZYpZcx4fuQxfesfQ-FLmpBPqZFkCAAJZQ13E0/s1600/Quesa5.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495657037201647682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37lQx6etID-4cpQcW2JKK_NJELHxdoBHuTokIdc18GWov1F5e5rEVBZMVKEe4S30KSObhg1JjjJiw7MazUoBvOrxJUTsX4NTP70_rv1ZYpZcx4fuQxfesfQ-FLmpBPqZFkCAAJZQ13E0/s400/Quesa5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">As if that weren't yawn-inducing-enough, what I've got for you today is one of those previously mentioned, thrown-together, weeknight meals. Quesadillas are certainly not a Kara-original. But they are a delicious meal that might just be perfect for a multitude of reasons. None of the least of which because it's Mexican - and as long as I'm eating Mexican, the world is right. And it's ideal for weeknight meals to boot - just grab any protein, vegetables and cheese you've got, along with some tortillas and heat, and dinner's on the table (or at least ready to be photographed).<br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><b>Whatever-You've-Got Quesadillas</b><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">serves 1-2 for dinner, 3-4 for snack/appetizer (can be scaled for your group)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1/2 c chopped onion<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1/2 c diced bell peppers<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1/2 c frozen corn<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1/2 c black beans (we cook dried black beans in large quantities using <a href="http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/2008/10/cooking-dried-beans-in-crockpot.html">this method</a> and then freeze them in small portions)<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 c chopped, grilled chicken (ours had previously been frozen)<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">2 TBSP cilantro, roughly torn<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 c shredded cheese of our choice (we used cheddar and Monterey Jack)<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">2 whole-wheat tortillas<br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Spray a 10-inch frying pan with cooking spray and cook onions over medium heat for about 5 minutes, until translucent. Add peppers, corn and beans (drained) and cook until heated throughout. Add in chopped chicken, just to warm. Remove all ingredients from pan, leaving the pan heated.<br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Place one tortilla in your re-sprayed pan and pile half of your chicken and bean ingredients on one side of the tortilla. Cover with 1/2 of your cheese and fold the tortilla in half. Heat the tortilla through, until the cheese has melted and then remove from heat and (take pictures and then) serve!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniPQ1SoSbqo9z5Ys2x-jzw3hsYWEacb_tVqOPNtG9XHwYqDr0CuHItx9Hwt4_AOkVFBibB7rFfFvgfe6TNvJXgAA6smrz78X2Y1WSvcUF0Wa3q0P3L_2SpzpD7mnlDGLSZYzcJeUDKE4/s1600/Quesa4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495657023728751954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniPQ1SoSbqo9z5Ys2x-jzw3hsYWEacb_tVqOPNtG9XHwYqDr0CuHItx9Hwt4_AOkVFBibB7rFfFvgfe6TNvJXgAA6smrz78X2Y1WSvcUF0Wa3q0P3L_2SpzpD7mnlDGLSZYzcJeUDKE4/s400/Quesa4.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">But if I've bored you... worry not, on the other side of this (i.e. as soon as I'm ready to write another recipe post) is some <span style="font-style: italic;">to-die-for</span> (and absolutely worth every photograph) homemade Key Lime Pie Ice Cream, complete with pieces of homemade graham cracker crust throughout (and perhaps a teaser of some Key Lime Pie Sorbet).</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-60892845756386211992010-07-14T18:48:00.001-05:002010-07-14T18:48:00.212-05:00How Does Your Garden Grow?<span style="line-height: 1.2;">Literally... how do you get it to grow?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBF-gu-_3sqN2EfZwATs2rwyTzUUjJVP3yfisZXhS0-i95Gjf5-A4oZIFGWs7jvuz0G_VW3CQqwP0YUi8Qy4k5iQRgj9Xt8ABrsC1E8nls1_rNtKeoiKi_7mIG5W4Sx5u487eig5GE5I/s1600/Hydrangea3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBF-gu-_3sqN2EfZwATs2rwyTzUUjJVP3yfisZXhS0-i95Gjf5-A4oZIFGWs7jvuz0G_VW3CQqwP0YUi8Qy4k5iQRgj9Xt8ABrsC1E8nls1_rNtKeoiKi_7mIG5W4Sx5u487eig5GE5I/s400/Hydrangea3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481606216611131586" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">I've talked before about <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search/label/home%20and%20garden">our yard and garden</a>... even at times, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/06/momma-said.html">sounded ridiculously proud of it</a>. Sure, we have shrubs that we lovingly prune each year and they (thankfully) flower again and again. A bed of your <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/06/momma-said.html">typical perennials</a> also continues to grace us with their presence. Of course <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCm2WRliqwUwj9KgzxDrrcuhJS9_WS_KAhV7e1S19mrEAV1dbgOhdbmoM8col20PfKmxbvxQdItz2iuyD8MQpaOmNGjhJXW0pi2BUiv9F3ag1HBPJlVsFUQPPcxOGCt9CQ3n09idwzTRY/s1600-h/Spring+2010b.jpg">there are herbs</a>... can any "cook" live without them, after all? And my mom has helped me over the seasons to <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/03/with-open-arms.html">arrange a mean container</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiik6ivhhyphenhyphenr3CMnv2Za2GZ6JWjNIJip973HOdAhCR4lQDHstVHru6yzeCY71MlGKDQxw1x_yGNe2-g4gxuwTuL-7ozT43Yd6To12A_xWxaWRozc852qJdnzj04GZtnnKlVLYCk-TQF_c/s1600/Hydrangea2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiik6ivhhyphenhyphenr3CMnv2Za2GZ6JWjNIJip973HOdAhCR4lQDHstVHru6yzeCY71MlGKDQxw1x_yGNe2-g4gxuwTuL-7ozT43Yd6To12A_xWxaWRozc852qJdnzj04GZtnnKlVLYCk-TQF_c/s400/Hydrangea2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481606218333704642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2Z6fHJSft0Ebz_BWOtawj4U1F4YqbkcUDTQkrbgfLF5Ixosmrvjh_tvA_K6KP6SMLutSBVXFCk4fHcw7h1HiLPVDngPW_VXSmSNVpXnyQZemVBxCOHYpWm-2bDaZjXhhPLPjMbGTy50/s1600/Hydrangea.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2Z6fHJSft0Ebz_BWOtawj4U1F4YqbkcUDTQkrbgfLF5Ixosmrvjh_tvA_K6KP6SMLutSBVXFCk4fHcw7h1HiLPVDngPW_VXSmSNVpXnyQZemVBxCOHYpWm-2bDaZjXhhPLPjMbGTy50/s400/Hydrangea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481606224211415842" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">But... (a very big) but... this hydrangea (that I now know could be a beautiful <span style="font-style: italic;">pink</span> flower!!!)... this glorious little (wimpy in comparison to its sister and brothers I'm seeing everywhere) flower has stumped me from day one. I know hydrangeas <a href="http://www.hydrangeashydrangeas.com/wont_bloom.html">flower from old wood</a> and thus need to be pruned very early... so after having no success the first year when I cut it back immediately after flowering, I haven't pruned her for the past two years. You read that right... not one snip (<a href="http://www.hydrangeashydrangeas.com/pruning.html">which these folks say shouldn't matter</a>). As a result, we got a healthy looking shrub... with vibrant, dark green leaves - but no buds, or flowers. And this year - what can only be attributed to <a href="http://davermfarm.wordpress.com/2010/06/16/hydrangeas-blooming-in-june/">the heavy snowfall</a> - four or five buds appeared on our once again otherwise-flourishing hydrangea. While I'm as grateful as can be for these blossoms, I would <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> to know how we got so lucky and moreso, how I can duplicate this effort (and then some) next year.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">In the meantime, my gardening satisfaction for the year will have to come from the <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> side of our yard... in the form of vegetables. After a successful spinach and still burgeoning green leaf lettuce crop, we've started digging up our sweet baby carrots and enjoying <a href="http://twitter.com/karaskitchen/status/17017862317">our fresh tomatoes</a> (while waiting on our pole beans, zucchini, and bell peppers). There's just nothing more fun than pulling a grown-from-seed real-live vegetable from your own (compost and all) garden.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lwqG3Pn83MgdfuHrmhi3Tk__f-bArJfKm1yOgGnS7QwPikHRlzXCGp4WL6xIjwrjOVSfkA298HXMS9IqFtCJM0_aNm69XPmqwyly89fVwfEDESLxoM5867DgGe7wI_DVgz8T96adb-c/s1600/Carrots.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lwqG3Pn83MgdfuHrmhi3Tk__f-bArJfKm1yOgGnS7QwPikHRlzXCGp4WL6xIjwrjOVSfkA298HXMS9IqFtCJM0_aNm69XPmqwyly89fVwfEDESLxoM5867DgGe7wI_DVgz8T96adb-c/s400/Carrots.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493803751611842322" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Thus, as you might expect, we're already thinking about what to grow in the kitchen garden this fall and <span style="font-style: italic;">again</span>, next spring! Besides conquering a finicky hydrangea, any recommendations for another season of fresh, homegrown, veggies?</span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-1413984880742344962010-07-12T17:58:00.002-05:002010-07-12T17:58:00.720-05:00Mysterious Splashes and Squeezes<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Recipe: Chicken, Craisins, and Walnut Salad (Sandwiches)</span><br /><br />It's true that we just got back from somewhere a lot more exciting (<a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=Penn+Yan">and photogenic</a>) than this chicken salad but we've been <span style="font-style: italic;">devouring </span>this salad (and/or sandwich, depending on who you are in this household) for almost 3 years so I couldn't wait another moment to share it with you. <span style="font-style: italic;">*pictures of our July 4th weekend to come... someday</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxMJ9srXbHcoNIOykFPZXLZ6EQBoKe-wnVq4dLhd2XYYRIdtUMIqI2FhO7ZwK0jiPk6DREsAH2xm3ukRl628zFK-lolzcRHUNVc58PE8yxtLPmkqL8-p6pDYG24mxeDGbzgWFO_ONirE/s1600/Chicken+Salad7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxMJ9srXbHcoNIOykFPZXLZ6EQBoKe-wnVq4dLhd2XYYRIdtUMIqI2FhO7ZwK0jiPk6DREsAH2xm3ukRl628zFK-lolzcRHUNVc58PE8yxtLPmkqL8-p6pDYG24mxeDGbzgWFO_ONirE/s400/Chicken+Salad7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484141493490674978" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Devouring? A "typical" chicken salad? Really, Kara... the food(-ish) blog world doesn't need one more person over-hyping a recipe. So with that, I will make a promise to you that this is no over-hype... sure it <span style="font-style: italic;">might</span> just be that we have warped taste buds or the fact that we like <span style="font-style: italic;">anything </span>in salad form (<a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/05/embarrassing-truth.html">egg salad</a>, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/02/can-you-stand-it.html">tuna salad</a>, etc.), but this <span style="font-weight: bold;">Chicken, Craisin, and Walnut Salad</span> truly is one of our favorites.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6239n5P4OEAAF6Fwd6oEriu7XCNhcpT3w6uTdDraGzK6C9wYSO7-puZgFo0sUfMA5wSa3rcI_H4RFYpiseALMVn6SHvgXD6ynNvKzci37xNleHpGP5YSpfqCkcRThWEPtGWeho9-wBU/s1600/Chicken+Salad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6239n5P4OEAAF6Fwd6oEriu7XCNhcpT3w6uTdDraGzK6C9wYSO7-puZgFo0sUfMA5wSa3rcI_H4RFYpiseALMVn6SHvgXD6ynNvKzci37xNleHpGP5YSpfqCkcRThWEPtGWeho9-wBU/s400/Chicken+Salad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483837199776365378" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlhs6B73FSwibeXYj6flFGJjO4VBwiXAyRqnLs7tCUZfMZocC3tPX0mm8-54iZsQMs2CXdZCpEQYqJQRfsL6wuS7TtSjPs9dHA1gfcy92SaQQcL0yf4O0CyKrUOIT2HXlW76ks5OeKNE/s1600/Chicken+Salad3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlhs6B73FSwibeXYj6flFGJjO4VBwiXAyRqnLs7tCUZfMZocC3tPX0mm8-54iZsQMs2CXdZCpEQYqJQRfsL6wuS7TtSjPs9dHA1gfcy92SaQQcL0yf4O0CyKrUOIT2HXlW76ks5OeKNE/s400/Chicken+Salad3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483837225399122626" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Is it the mysterious splashes of hot sauce? Or the squeeze of lemon? We'll never know (not that we're ever left with much time to figure it out)... all I know is that this is one of the two most often requested dishes around here, which to me says it is anything <span style="font-style: italic;">but</span> typical. It also says "make me tonight... or tomorrow... or better yet, both!" (these leftovers are highly coveted in this house)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEier-GcdfBV_iX2cmqiGLp-qPz-kxusWo1baG4sQdx7wHozD9n8MJY4Vcyirk-JeRpT-jURnG1WcvB9eSSMO32HFakxdT9arN8alO1xq-_Ece8gdoTOPaQzl8lcNBhn_yJdRfJAdy02te8/s1600/Chicken+Salad1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEier-GcdfBV_iX2cmqiGLp-qPz-kxusWo1baG4sQdx7wHozD9n8MJY4Vcyirk-JeRpT-jURnG1WcvB9eSSMO32HFakxdT9arN8alO1xq-_Ece8gdoTOPaQzl8lcNBhn_yJdRfJAdy02te8/s400/Chicken+Salad1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483837212771144818" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Chicken, Craisin, and Walnut Salad Sandwiches</span><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-style: italic;">adapted from Bon Appetit</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 1/4 lb skinless boneless chicken breasts<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 1/4 c thinly sliced green onions<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 c coarsely chopped walnuts, toasted<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">3/4 c Craisins<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">3/4 c mayonnaise<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1/2 c chopped fresh parsley<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">2 TBSP fresh lemon juice<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 (scant) tsp hot pepper sauce<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">12 slices wheat bread, lightly toasted<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Arrange chicken in single layer in medium skillet; add enough water to cover. Bring to simmer over medium heat. Cover; reduce heat to low and simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 25 minutes. Transfer chicken to cutting boat. (chicken can be made in advance using this method, or <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/01/keeper.html">slow-cooked and shredded using this recipe</a>)<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Cut chicken (or shred) into 1/2-inch cubes. Mix chicken and all remaining ingredients except bread in large bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide salad among 6 toast slices and top with remaining pieces of toast.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEWN_HrTxWlHh57KC4Gs-15An7hvGUcSP_2bYnH4n5T20hLqQAdqZ6p_wns1pMjLgf2tziqHzG8FWlWmhEGNdeHNYX_8EcxRBsYuwW3ibx2nx3evnVewAeekyxgOqFlshaessZCOoBPw/s1600/Chicken+Salad2.jpg"></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-90818108526769938492010-06-27T23:47:00.004-05:002010-06-28T15:31:47.955-05:00Hits the Spot<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Alternate Title: Yet Another of my Mom's Treasures</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">I'm pretty much (sorta) over apologizing for the fact that I quote my mom here over and over and over... though saying "quoting her" should be taken lightly, seeing as how quoting <span style="font-style: italic;">anything </span>is neither of our strong suits.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Speaking of strengths, I must give credit for the presence any athletic bone in my body to (wait for it) <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/06/perfect-for-heavy-handed.html">my ice cream-loving <span style="font-weight: bold;">father</span></a>. Gotcha, didn't I!? You'd have guessed my mom - and I wouldn't have blamed you - except for the fact that I've seen her (attempt to) tread water and break her toe at the mere touch of a soccer ball. Luckily, while my dad and I take care of the sports in our family, my mom can do just about everything else.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">And this time, she exercised (no pun intended) her gift of uncovering a treasure (which happens to be <span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-finally-back-with-show-and-tell-spot.html">my favorite spot #3 - <span style="font-style: italic;">I told you it was just a spot!</span></a>).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuPcyaHqvf3KBi7npYt0MZPPFIHP0a6N8uawUYI1qnNIGQ5zJO02OAT9wt0xbtB6JQumIf0So-Bm8wPwh-de5u16cyOgRXEgBF-_55Xzd-t6lVNke8xeqnF8SYsidTqpZk1ON3LDYZvw/s1600/Dacshund+picture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuPcyaHqvf3KBi7npYt0MZPPFIHP0a6N8uawUYI1qnNIGQ5zJO02OAT9wt0xbtB6JQumIf0So-Bm8wPwh-de5u16cyOgRXEgBF-_55Xzd-t6lVNke8xeqnF8SYsidTqpZk1ON3LDYZvw/s400/Dacshund+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481605326566976930" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">If you don't recognize those dogs, then you must be new (welcome!). Seeing as how we're a little <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45926827@N02/sets/72157623380396452/with/4385745762/">black-and-tan-long-haired-dachshund-obsessed</a> around here, when my mom spied this beautiful, life-like graphic of two long-haired dachshunds in a vintage garden book (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45926827@N02/4333420437/">because dachshunds like gardens?!?</a>), she snatched it up knowing I'd be all too happy to find it a home.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">And it didn't take long... about 3.5 seconds after she presented it to us and I had quieted down from my ooohing and aahing (finding pictures of these wonderful creatures, especially of the long-haired variety, is <span style="font-style: italic;">much</span> harder than you'd think), this space on our family room (yes, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-finally-back-with-show-and-tell-spot.html">that same room that fills me with "eh"</a>) bookshelf was cleared, ever-so-slightly rearranged and then voila!<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Who'd have thought that just a small piece of art could provide me so much happiness. It has since provided me countless moments of secret glances... not that the <span style="font-style: italic;">real thing</span> is ever that far away.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-49967644518086330732010-06-15T23:25:00.002-05:002010-06-16T14:19:52.038-05:00Perfect For the Heavy-Handed<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Recipe: Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Is it a dad thing to love ice cream or just a <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> dad thing? Either way, it's almost a given that anytime I have the slightest thought about ice cream, it's accompanied by any number of fond memories of my dad scooping what remains to be the largest serving you've ever seen into his bowl (hurriedly at that, lest someone should swat his hand away).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBscyoelM0cwJ4iZfegpEoh9-lHVpTuJDLurC324vqCqg5mqgacEZ3xHtlbLY0mp-3zgkxkWoQXDT1wQLVtjAHsBHGKlilUpfcEtecD_FrpOwOHkGmmX1phNPyFu-HuWN22nfVJz-OmG0/s1600/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBscyoelM0cwJ4iZfegpEoh9-lHVpTuJDLurC324vqCqg5mqgacEZ3xHtlbLY0mp-3zgkxkWoQXDT1wQLVtjAHsBHGKlilUpfcEtecD_FrpOwOHkGmmX1phNPyFu-HuWN22nfVJz-OmG0/s400/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481610154461021026" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">I'm not sure that I can do this image justice but picture if you will a half gallon (or whatever they are, these days) of insert-ice-cream-brand-name-here... you remove the top expecting ice cream resting just at or below the lip of the container. At this point, in my house, if my dad had gotten to the ice cream first, sure, there <span style="font-style: italic;">might</span> be ice cream left, but the entire first inch or two would have been removed via a swift (precise <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> practiced) motion (see above comment about a hand being swatted).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7iGxwO15QxOlvEjhU7BYBpC8X_2OOMlcAFL5pruFtukxFfFrys_IfCg2IrES4_tE6qJMJ7EAjyhz1-UlLO7iKfn0jaS9cf3PeOlLIZreVDwn-k9VNx1YGE9mBci6F998NYN5xdkuBuOc/s1600/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7iGxwO15QxOlvEjhU7BYBpC8X_2OOMlcAFL5pruFtukxFfFrys_IfCg2IrES4_tE6qJMJ7EAjyhz1-UlLO7iKfn0jaS9cf3PeOlLIZreVDwn-k9VNx1YGE9mBci6F998NYN5xdkuBuOc/s400/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481610146903323474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_MqN-d4vDWeT3ZEvpFt5wWgxCol34fHP6QyNOeE_i-2ibcDZiuUurW7FK3XBrifoh2VTbRu40odxjYB-5XXaQec6vU855twHFWrKx5_4TIi87z4flgta2Au8MJUOIIRbZd_IutgH6U0/s1600/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_MqN-d4vDWeT3ZEvpFt5wWgxCol34fHP6QyNOeE_i-2ibcDZiuUurW7FK3XBrifoh2VTbRu40odxjYB-5XXaQec6vU855twHFWrKx5_4TIi87z4flgta2Au8MJUOIIRbZd_IutgH6U0/s400/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481610167329094514" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">So it's with those memories in mind that I can sincerely say... eat your heart out, Dad (literally)! It's finally your day to shine (on <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> blog, at least)... and although you unfortunately don't get to take your gratuitous scoop(s) of this <span style="font-style: italic;">particular</span> ice cream, this recipe is dedicated to no one else but you.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">As far as the <span style="font-style: italic;">rest</span> of you... whether your dad has a heavy hand or not, I willing to bet this'd be a winner on your Father's Day table too.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream</span><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><a href="http://www.cuisinart.com/recipes/desserts/98.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">from Cuisinart</span></a><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 1/8 c peanut butter (not natural)<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">3/4 c sugar<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 1/4 c whole milk<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">2 c heavy cream<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">1 c peanut butter cup candies, rough chopped<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">In a medium mixing bowl, use a hand mixer or whisk to combine the peanut butter and sugar until smooth. Add the milk and mix on low speed until the sugar is dissolved, about 1 to 2 minutes. Stir in the heavy cream and vanilla.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Turn your ice cream machine on; pour the mixture into freezer bowl, and let mix until almost thickened, about 20 minutes. Five minutes before mixing is completed, add the chopped candy through the top and let mix in completely. The ice cream will have a soft, creamy texture. If a firmer consistency is desired, transfer the ice cream to an airtight container and place in freezer for about 2 hours.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Remove from freezer about 15 minutes before serving.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyauKoiY5hsLYWnytcFNw5GaIwEocok1Sffu5R-Nc0sWugivQOSONvYNQtUFLRIHUniWIIibZQzObhkeAosvVrYk20Na9lZbLZMti7E6A6ORmoghN0CNDroX2s5IgEW7TTnG9IlgrS_s/s1600/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyauKoiY5hsLYWnytcFNw5GaIwEocok1Sffu5R-Nc0sWugivQOSONvYNQtUFLRIHUniWIIibZQzObhkeAosvVrYk20Na9lZbLZMti7E6A6ORmoghN0CNDroX2s5IgEW7TTnG9IlgrS_s/s400/Pnut+Butter+ice+cream3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481610161512530306" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-47361027071899042502010-06-10T21:11:00.005-05:002010-06-11T13:27:28.460-05:00Fitting Right In<span style="line-height: 1.2;">I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> back with <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/03/series-entitled-my-favorite-places.html">show-and-tell spot</a> #2 of our casa. And no, my silence regarding all things home and garden wasn't because I couldn't find something else that I loved about our house (though admittedly, I <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> see room for improvement, or er... overhaul) <span style="font-style: italic;">or</span> for that matter, because we haven't been working around the house (primarily in the yard... it's summer, after all, indoor updates can <span style="font-style: italic;">kinda-sorta</span> wait!). Instead, it was a bit because I couldn't decide if we've got anything really worth sharing (and dreaming that it might - dare I say - <span style="font-style: italic;">inspire</span> you?) even if they do make us happy and another, a sadly bigger dose of sheer laziness.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUebzrPbIlNMavrT7_QT9U5XSCfgsjkpRCeuofQMaliRlQK3MgvU6SGmwoyqijWZ_I8lnabDbTuWVIQl23_JKQ4dqFV92Z6UcEWqHVt_KgJzIXpigQa5Sepgp3zOFlzZAG1s3eYN1iaz8/s1600-h/Drafting+Table1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUebzrPbIlNMavrT7_QT9U5XSCfgsjkpRCeuofQMaliRlQK3MgvU6SGmwoyqijWZ_I8lnabDbTuWVIQl23_JKQ4dqFV92Z6UcEWqHVt_KgJzIXpigQa5Sepgp3zOFlzZAG1s3eYN1iaz8/s400/Drafting+Table1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449639302352837810" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Buuuut... we (humbly) think that this corner of our family room housing this gorgeous drafting table was worth the wait. Truth be told, this nook lives in the room that without a doubt frustrates me the most of any in our home... daily even. Thank goodness for this little, inconsequential corner... that which gives me hope.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">As I mentioned, an outspoken majority of the rest of this room leaves quite a bit to be desired (and thus the only chance you have of seeing it is if I get desperate enough to ask for help); our family room and I have a distinct love-hate relationship... in that I love one or two very minor parts of it (duh... shown here), and <span style="font-style: italic;">strongly dislike</span> what's left.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKTArwYanXevm6w1BLbz2xLhxNpQkCxxY9D2hIZDzqTq0VYbOU9ZaJX_ZL0f_t3gV5tl33RRmM-0iiCNxEZgx7i7wMzvSEkiQufWkoeQrBPTv76LGVEkUvk3zafS9It8zjdiHZBGZMcT0/s1600-h/Drafting+Table3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKTArwYanXevm6w1BLbz2xLhxNpQkCxxY9D2hIZDzqTq0VYbOU9ZaJX_ZL0f_t3gV5tl33RRmM-0iiCNxEZgx7i7wMzvSEkiQufWkoeQrBPTv76LGVEkUvk3zafS9It8zjdiHZBGZMcT0/s400/Drafting+Table3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449639525891008930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6vD_L7hWrDqeBL_tNoMLgzIaXnoi0VY3yyz2dj7qxNthSbE8EWKlXcA7YAJ4ZxTWPTOndBzJwIIdX9-To-OnhY9qoM75XVhTl3ZCk3l8Qhn2XIYvRmGIGgzcEv_IjtUvHTjPjoisZ-w/s1600-h/Drafting+Table4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6vD_L7hWrDqeBL_tNoMLgzIaXnoi0VY3yyz2dj7qxNthSbE8EWKlXcA7YAJ4ZxTWPTOndBzJwIIdX9-To-OnhY9qoM75XVhTl3ZCk3l8Qhn2XIYvRmGIGgzcEv_IjtUvHTjPjoisZ-w/s400/Drafting+Table4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449639756784649650" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">The story of the life of this beautiful (and don't tell us if you think otherwise) table is one of significance. It was almost (phew!) tragically cut short; as during the move-in process, with my limited "vision", I was sure there was no place for it. After all, it was taller and much larger in surface area than any typical desk so using it as a bedside table or a desk in a guest room was out. Add in the fact that it was too wide for many of our 1940s random-width doorways, and we were left in a bind.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Thankfully, just as we were about to give up and draft a Craigslist ad, my parents arrived in town. And as you might guess, my mom's good <span style="font-style: italic;">eye</span> saved the day. At the time the decorating style of the house might have been best described as (with compliments to the then-current - and only - resident) "clean bachelor pad", complete with only a recliner, ottoman, coffee table, bookshelf, and of course a TV. But through it all, my mom saw this oddly angled corner and stopped the presses. A few minutes (and a door off its hinges) later, and our work/wrapping/crafting station was born.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4sth881g63KEoZE5KPfh5LEIwxfhkBq75vT8UI5lAW_QVFEoF-hcNGXhonQnW4k0WZkDapuzQJHvVR95Vjrd1vXDx5gvN6nDbg9U__nVzR_FtT2Qw_dwvGgp_c0XYf4Bd0bLpfAttFGk/s1600-h/Drafting+Table.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4sth881g63KEoZE5KPfh5LEIwxfhkBq75vT8UI5lAW_QVFEoF-hcNGXhonQnW4k0WZkDapuzQJHvVR95Vjrd1vXDx5gvN6nDbg9U__nVzR_FtT2Qw_dwvGgp_c0XYf4Bd0bLpfAttFGk/s400/Drafting+Table.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449639240968436706" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">With the table in place, accessories were in order. Little by little, we added a revived (you just <span style="font-style: italic;">can't</span> kill the suckers) philodendron in a quiet, cream planter, two black and whites framed similarly drawing your eye up the back wall, a task light, a sculptural glass container holding spools of colorful ribbon, and a basket (on the floor) of various wrapping papers (my <span style="font-style: italic;">rather weak</span> attempts at injecting color). Overtime, we've worked in some more personal touches including the cute wooden dog, dried flowers and a picture from <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/03/once-in-lifetime-march-1-2008.html">our wedding</a>, as well as a prominent place for <a href="http://www.thestationerystudio.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/catalog.listProducts/catID/952/Stampers_&_Embossers.html">our ultra useful address-stamper</a> (that sees at least weekly use - thanks, Missy!).<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">If you can't tell (by my more-than-you-needed details), things about our house that I feel are "put-it-on-the-world-wide-web" worthy get me a little excited... so excited in fact, that I've already picked my next favorite spot (this one is indeed just <span style="font-style: italic;">a spot</span>) to share with you. So while you're thinking of (and letting me know!) how we can continue to dress up our precious desk-in-the-corner, stop by sometime soon to see how we figured out one (<span style="font-style: italic;">simple</span>) way to make another small piece of our family room more palatable. It turns out I have a thing with corners...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-80682410371415496432010-06-06T20:46:00.000-05:002010-06-06T22:30:29.760-05:00Late to the Party<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>Recipe: Wheat Berry Salad with Chickpeas, Craisins, Feta and Mint</i><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">There are two things you can count on around here... that I'm always going to be the last to do or know about <span style="font-style: italic;">anything</span> - which most certainly applies to new (or once they get to me, old) trends, and that I know <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span>, and I mean literally zero, about anything related to pop culture, or that is cool or hip (for that matter, do "we" even say the word "hip" at this point?).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsNs5ZBdJkIM7h1LUNdFtOTPu2RygdTyxh29-fGg261ThAqgzifTlR-2OcZ_CtrH_TgIO1JJectUdBDiQq7fcvOKaXB7RAi5AS9wnfpC7xXy7kmeOi3mxUtmzPhTHln1O3lAPHp_n6fs/s1600/None.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsNs5ZBdJkIM7h1LUNdFtOTPu2RygdTyxh29-fGg261ThAqgzifTlR-2OcZ_CtrH_TgIO1JJectUdBDiQq7fcvOKaXB7RAi5AS9wnfpC7xXy7kmeOi3mxUtmzPhTHln1O3lAPHp_n6fs/s400/None.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478547341935946706" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">While I'm sure this surprises no one, not the least of which you all - after all, you've been privy to just a few of the recipes I throw around in our kitchen (<a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-things-never-change.html">frittatas</a>? <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2007/10/fall-is-here.html">sausage soup</a>? <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=bar+cookies">bar cookies</a>? <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-true-that-no-matter-where-you-are.html">a fruit trifle</a>? and sometimes, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2006/10/chocolate-fever.html">two chocolate recipes at once</a>?), it did feel good to wipe yet another embarrassing admission off my chest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LKl3mmXYsTuFVkn5qTaAHtFyhNUO5azOD7t4SbGtd0xzx27M-Ay8BVpjFZ-4mRjRvizXFZIeHd41aoYaqdttaAXdmlLIDXUNXY6KS7dMvBlr3R5ybDJW4Zge96W3swwikLg9m_OV4jM/s1600/None2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LKl3mmXYsTuFVkn5qTaAHtFyhNUO5azOD7t4SbGtd0xzx27M-Ay8BVpjFZ-4mRjRvizXFZIeHd41aoYaqdttaAXdmlLIDXUNXY6KS7dMvBlr3R5ybDJW4Zge96W3swwikLg9m_OV4jM/s400/None2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478547349991459906" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjv_h30W9a0muQ4N6mMVMygCzVQY0zP24MIu3XNus8EwH3yJokYL_VDKEG-BqHgn1F0fsFl9GFhTzW9VcSaZxlSb4KVVC-TToWfAHNFem0pk4mZRcs8kuvgXI-1b0__xo3OkTF0O4YHvY/s1600/None4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjv_h30W9a0muQ4N6mMVMygCzVQY0zP24MIu3XNus8EwH3yJokYL_VDKEG-BqHgn1F0fsFl9GFhTzW9VcSaZxlSb4KVVC-TToWfAHNFem0pk4mZRcs8kuvgXI-1b0__xo3OkTF0O4YHvY/s400/None4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478547354859896514" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Over two years ago, I read post after post of <a href="http://foodblogga.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-many-whole-grains-can-you-name.html">Susan's</a> (among others) about bulgur, farro, quinoa, and a number of other whole grains that I'd never even heard of (truth be told, at the time, I was cooking whole wheat couscous, calling it a whole grain); and, they sounded not only delicious but each also boasted incredible health benefits. Thus it's fitting, albeit late as expected, that I've <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> located (honestly, this was half the battle), cooked, and fallen hard for... wheat berries.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-omfzkqVoLQMk6M1XF07DS61WkntqMxsWtDZJzUCVPxpXnIEeBfdQeK2J5h9SEJ0YBheHFALTyJ0KUvDy34RNP1UlQsYeLvInBXK-bC88w-8Azp0Y5x_DyV0qI_KiTjEhfNGo2oEJ0Q/s1600/None1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs-omfzkqVoLQMk6M1XF07DS61WkntqMxsWtDZJzUCVPxpXnIEeBfdQeK2J5h9SEJ0YBheHFALTyJ0KUvDy34RNP1UlQsYeLvInBXK-bC88w-8Azp0Y5x_DyV0qI_KiTjEhfNGo2oEJ0Q/s400/None1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478547344118202866" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Since then, though, you can be sure that I've seen right through (past, and around) the hour-long cooking time required to transform these once dry and light-as-air pellets into tender little nuggets of chewy, wheaty, wholesomeness. In the very short time that we've been acquainted, our new pal has already met us in two delicious recipes (<a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/thekitchn/ingredients-pantry/recipe-wheat-berry-salad-with-blood-oranges-feta-and-red-onion-vinaigrette-078138">one of which got unfairly short-changed being served past the bewitching hour of decent photos</a>), leaving us with over half a bag of the little gems waiting for their day to shine. And shine they will... as these low-maintenance guys certainly don't need much help.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">How to cook wheat berries:</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Add 1 cup dried wheat berries to a medium-to-large sized pot and fill pot with water, covering the wheat berries by at least an inch or more. Bring the water to a boil and then turn down to just simmering for about an hour, or until tender. Drain the wheat berries. From here you can either use them right away or store them in an airtight container in your refrigerator for several days.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Recipes with wheat berries that we've enjoyed:<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.notderbypie.com/wheatberry-salad-with-cranberries-feta-and-mint/"><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Wheat Berry Salad with chickpeas, Craisins, feta, and mint</span></a> (chickpeas were my substitution)<a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.notderbypie.com/wheatberry-salad-with-cranberries-feta-and-mint/"><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Wheat Berry Salad with black beans, feta, onions, and red onion vinaigrette</span></a> (black beans were my addition; we <span style="font-style: italic;">loved</span> this vinaigrette!)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiqhVVbilO42rlE2k5DqEOI3dzF79TggZQ3DFGMIHxynaMx4FyMON7bwwrCATf9rQO9RdSRrTx_jZ9uz9Ijb_IzV-T0MmXreATYrVFkur4E5AIIsQ2eUY9SZAMlHWGnKp3LSBCnv1I8E/s1600/None5.jpg"></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-70123957032051026612010-05-31T23:11:00.002-05:002010-06-01T23:35:32.850-05:00Indulgence<span style="line-height: 1.2;">If you will, please indulge me for a little while longer... <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/05/why-i-smile.html">pictures of my most adorable nieces and nephew</a>, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/05/send-help.html">begging for recipes</a>... and now this. Just one solitary picture... from this past weekend.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_O-RM8n2iZWfo4qKPBBUC8UqiNAp7IZPyNZUDZ25gAuX5qwQ1Ucch1m4d36qV4rYcgRH4SbqyepwwGJ5UsvHuiw7BIPFZK05JEKpGEd1-QWIwYBwDfbg_fQ_vTchrtr1_fTpag5PyP-M/s1600/Girls+group+picture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_O-RM8n2iZWfo4qKPBBUC8UqiNAp7IZPyNZUDZ25gAuX5qwQ1Ucch1m4d36qV4rYcgRH4SbqyepwwGJ5UsvHuiw7BIPFZK05JEKpGEd1-QWIwYBwDfbg_fQ_vTchrtr1_fTpag5PyP-M/s400/Girls+group+picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478028665813686226" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">This group of extraordinary girls (and just trust me that the <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> ten of them are somethin' kinda special) just sadly parted ways after an annual gathering... this time in my (former) hometown, Atlanta. Nostalgic for a 9-year-later group picture repeat, we corralled all of us into one little spot near the pool where the rest of our weekend had been spent, and happily, I might add.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Dare I say time has been quite kind to my dear friends? Marriages, babies, and more babies, and an undeniable dose of reality, have made these girls even more amazing and beautiful than I could have imagined. And so it happens... the friendships that I've been so (undeservingly fortunate) to have throughout my life have (unbelievably, but officially) rendered this girl speechless.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Speechless... but soon to return with a tasty recipe that you'll want on your table all summer (one you might very well have put to good use today... there I go again with my impeccable timing).</span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-90063727078898332402010-05-24T22:23:00.003-05:002010-05-25T08:47:38.410-05:00Why I Smile<span style="line-height: 1.2;">I may not have <span style="font-style: italic;">this life thing</span> down just yet (or plans to really <span style="font-style: italic;">get it</span> anytime soon) but one thing is for certain... these two and a half (for now, <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/05/and-then-there-were-three.html">Sarah Taylor</a> only gets half-billing) little creatures that I keep close by (though not close enough) are a sure antidote to anything that's got me down.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYqG4IX3GAybOBL5f4-9benf_j2-pg9tN43ln1_pZUfQH0oyDAnVAMiKJRvYr_sSp5DI6tTSd7gS4dvAdhSi_gBbzu2_kftMdGHo4SAyEQ-nV1ccA94uHeoA53kjTR05oROt63jLkeV0/s1600/None+%282%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYqG4IX3GAybOBL5f4-9benf_j2-pg9tN43ln1_pZUfQH0oyDAnVAMiKJRvYr_sSp5DI6tTSd7gS4dvAdhSi_gBbzu2_kftMdGHo4SAyEQ-nV1ccA94uHeoA53kjTR05oROt63jLkeV0/s400/None+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028006797255090" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Lucky for you... as I'm of course happy to share them (<span style="font-style: italic;">read:</span> force numerous pictures of them on you), we've got plenty to go around. And what I've got in store for you may or may not include one or more pictures of my adorable niece's perfectly chubby little legs stuffed in her <span style="font-style: italic;">just like my big brother's</span> boots.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyddB4NSRfuT5XwQ10hiBPZDgH_isxSmO7XKrW8uFyqFd4jaWEuB2nBUr6bGuPYgGwS0ypf9n4NwtIhoO-phM9hmP4jx5Z3prfHXay1c7b7bfuRtSI8yvOLfSSH3fzk8_-RudRggBZ7U/s1600/None+%285%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyddB4NSRfuT5XwQ10hiBPZDgH_isxSmO7XKrW8uFyqFd4jaWEuB2nBUr6bGuPYgGwS0ypf9n4NwtIhoO-phM9hmP4jx5Z3prfHXay1c7b7bfuRtSI8yvOLfSSH3fzk8_-RudRggBZ7U/s400/None+%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028297769764066" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Even though ole' Michelin-legs McGee wasn't altogether thrilled with her usually hands-free (and able to toss her in the air at-will) Aunt Kiki, I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">quite</span> confident that one day, she will thank me for these pictures... and the kind words said about them. Her sister, on the other hand, was more than happy to let me run around snapping pictures furiously - not that she was the wiser for it. But I've seen how fast these kids grow so I knew better than to let an opportunity with a quiet, still baby (or adorably pudgy legs, for that matter) pass me by. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyddB4NSRfuT5XwQ10hiBPZDgH_isxSmO7XKrW8uFyqFd4jaWEuB2nBUr6bGuPYgGwS0ypf9n4NwtIhoO-phM9hmP4jx5Z3prfHXay1c7b7bfuRtSI8yvOLfSSH3fzk8_-RudRggBZ7U/s1600/None+%285%29.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyddB4NSRfuT5XwQ10hiBPZDgH_isxSmO7XKrW8uFyqFd4jaWEuB2nBUr6bGuPYgGwS0ypf9n4NwtIhoO-phM9hmP4jx5Z3prfHXay1c7b7bfuRtSI8yvOLfSSH3fzk8_-RudRggBZ7U/s1600/None+%285%29.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6RgUTF3JbXvQiqouuTaN1pl7BnI0Aj7WVDL_JyeuCtOKVkDo8n42dOOZ5wSa0axop6zS9kKXdJgls_qCqEZXfo6FVpPZOIScoj9PAFlLGEYhQvAFPolHrHDOIsLk-PlY3jOlkNYsPHA/s1600/None+%284%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6RgUTF3JbXvQiqouuTaN1pl7BnI0Aj7WVDL_JyeuCtOKVkDo8n42dOOZ5wSa0axop6zS9kKXdJgls_qCqEZXfo6FVpPZOIScoj9PAFlLGEYhQvAFPolHrHDOIsLk-PlY3jOlkNYsPHA/s400/None+%284%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028017799894370" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtTMqWhQeApVNRmYhcY4az_h2RGUWa3Gp8NUb7XhpAWw9mCc1PwAkqRKHNu97gDhpzylW68AoGk4zedjN81oB3so4vshOslyrLf8Jyeln4FsIRr_IjWPtvVSK4DziFcuCgrXJyV7tIDc/s1600/None+%283%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtTMqWhQeApVNRmYhcY4az_h2RGUWa3Gp8NUb7XhpAWw9mCc1PwAkqRKHNu97gDhpzylW68AoGk4zedjN81oB3so4vshOslyrLf8Jyeln4FsIRr_IjWPtvVSK4DziFcuCgrXJyV7tIDc/s400/None+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028007490094034" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">In the world of Charlie, post-baby sister #2, he's stepped into the big-<span style="font-style: italic;">big</span> brother role quite nicely. He's quick to tell momma when either of his sisters are crying or seem to need something (and especially if they are <span style="font-style: italic;">too little</span> to be playing with any of his toys) and then head on his merry way to the closest John Deere-like piece of machinery or <a href="http://store.playmobilusa.com/">Playmobil</a> set. And if a <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=Sophie">Sophie, or Nana or Grandad</a> are close by, all the better.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHj2EUvaVwWE7_QsBtWgyC-ACq7pO4kEKj8L9zQC18UnRj918JjCIC9yZsSwwnCLrSACcQWGoeluZSHiXrK1NJ54YvsUfbBn88sYCMshq5B2sObCC4HYKLexWlaT-DztVctRFB1RXyZjg/s1600/None+%286%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHj2EUvaVwWE7_QsBtWgyC-ACq7pO4kEKj8L9zQC18UnRj918JjCIC9yZsSwwnCLrSACcQWGoeluZSHiXrK1NJ54YvsUfbBn88sYCMshq5B2sObCC4HYKLexWlaT-DztVctRFB1RXyZjg/s400/None+%286%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028302739709394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2eCWntmK4SCRUHqmEl6kyHLZTYtfvyFKrPpoKZ47VvWE8QViyX6VmNe6ldcccOHlZbu142by-0HjoJwIN4h-NRQ5tAFQKzL0bdU6jCXPv05I4AdM5e7w1lhHITQ62dgSvHBLiyyhLBA/s1600/None.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2eCWntmK4SCRUHqmEl6kyHLZTYtfvyFKrPpoKZ47VvWE8QViyX6VmNe6ldcccOHlZbu142by-0HjoJwIN4h-NRQ5tAFQKzL0bdU6jCXPv05I4AdM5e7w1lhHITQ62dgSvHBLiyyhLBA/s400/None.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475028308390529138" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">If there's one person in all of this who does <span style="font-style: italic;">get it</span>, well, that'd be our big-cheeked Sarah Taylor. Someone must have given her a heads-up that she was arriving as the third child in an already <span style="font-style: italic;">active</span> (we'll call it) household. While Caroline chases after her big brother, leaving no stone unturned, the baby in residence ingeniously takes every chance she gets to catch some shut-eye - in the teeny tiny mind of a 4-week old, she's got it all figured out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQIvRPOMuMZcr5MtW7Eqc_tdXSvtYyjEyXmT5cUJoKYWx-P5pyFFzZdluUw_5LcIVcIB7Qr8kzyTffG7FqBnd33c2dS1WpW3Ogt_qnIAO5bliQeeT6BOnuZytoFgrzBbD2aXe-V-DaZY/s1600/None+%281%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQIvRPOMuMZcr5MtW7Eqc_tdXSvtYyjEyXmT5cUJoKYWx-P5pyFFzZdluUw_5LcIVcIB7Qr8kzyTffG7FqBnd33c2dS1WpW3Ogt_qnIAO5bliQeeT6BOnuZytoFgrzBbD2aXe-V-DaZY/s400/None+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475027994629987714" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">I imagine her time will come - and I can't wait to be there to (make a poor attempt to) capture yet another reason to make you smile.</span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2392836436658273721.post-51540491793661049382010-05-12T23:45:00.007-05:002010-06-11T14:54:43.481-05:00Send Help<span style="line-height: 1.2;"><i>Recipe: Homemade Waffles</i><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">While I'm on a breakfast kick (or at least I was... until <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/05/starstruck.html">I met the Pioneer Woman</a> and went into hiding for a week+), I figure that I might as well roll with it. Although I do fear that my guise under which I've been writing this <span style="font-style: italic;">ah-hem</span> (food) blog is about to be blown wide open.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8zw5ROFJC0b2BcRk-G9O-oC11Zt6wxq7-OEcFm8faI_8wmcFjRrzcyMmpVDBhTnNth9sYNTyElTq2xuEK-jQYmQTw0d1GoSlBSdEnyecFdgiick5opzEC4NTwbN6pO8_vnpnn7ACdEg/s1600/Homemade+waffle+with+jam.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465603623340857330" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 266px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8zw5ROFJC0b2BcRk-G9O-oC11Zt6wxq7-OEcFm8faI_8wmcFjRrzcyMmpVDBhTnNth9sYNTyElTq2xuEK-jQYmQTw0d1GoSlBSdEnyecFdgiick5opzEC4NTwbN6pO8_vnpnn7ACdEg/s400/Homemade+waffle+with+jam.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">The facts of the case are this: the person who pens these <span style="font-style: italic;">riveting </span>(sometimes) food-related posts feeds her "family" breakfast for dinner at <span style="font-style: italic;">least</span> once a week. But, you can rest easy knowing that on the nights when we aren't eating <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2010/04/accepting-past.html">some form of eggs</a>, waffles or pancakes, I really crank it up and serve an extremely gourmet <a href="http://karaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/02/can-you-stand-it.html">tuna salad sandwich</a>... see, we're not <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> breakfast here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uv25ZnF2x53qqARTP3QSx_H6e4u91o7vwz6tmdqrwAt8f2KSuWlXO0diotO2rNgI6-8h8aln84ds4opjOKYiQnnWtEBw_ksVZ8RmPFzFR1_ZUjFosJIMDv1_71r7IeJiSC0SmOGWfH0/s1600/Homemade+waffles2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465603635015274898" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 266px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uv25ZnF2x53qqARTP3QSx_H6e4u91o7vwz6tmdqrwAt8f2KSuWlXO0diotO2rNgI6-8h8aln84ds4opjOKYiQnnWtEBw_ksVZ8RmPFzFR1_ZUjFosJIMDv1_71r7IeJiSC0SmOGWfH0/s400/Homemade+waffles2.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">I've actually just learned that the "breakfast for dinner" <span style="font-style: italic;">thing</span> is a somewhat polarizing issue in the land of "what's for dinner." And honestly, I was shocked!<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">But I'm hoping that no matter which side of the aisle you find yourself on, you can at least agree with me that waffles, no matter what time of day you choose to consume them, are pretty tasty little things... especially if made well.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8hJ1P1zMuQDUT4lKxn4alasl2c6qi-rHpuLxn1jiNSjPldMgYfTC3syDF8QBvxtPUyzNGB2C8SsGwHwahq4tKLycRFnc0GrUbRQR_PeZxd2jyDzpbaViw4oBTSck9NBYyJ36jAI_XQo/s1600/Homemade+waffle+collage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465603617200716002" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8hJ1P1zMuQDUT4lKxn4alasl2c6qi-rHpuLxn1jiNSjPldMgYfTC3syDF8QBvxtPUyzNGB2C8SsGwHwahq4tKLycRFnc0GrUbRQR_PeZxd2jyDzpbaViw4oBTSck9NBYyJ36jAI_XQo/s400/Homemade+waffle+collage.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Here's where you come in... (do you like how I eased you in like that?) I need help. Bad. I made these here waffles a few weeks ago on a bright weekend morning and we enjoyed them immensely... so much so that I vowed to never stray from the recipe and make them again and again... and again.<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">The thing is, when I went to make them <span style="font-style: italic;">again</span> (this time for dinner)... the recipe that I had once pledged my allegiance to was no where to be found. After spending far much time searching to no avail, my thoughts turned to you all! Might you lend me a hand?<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">This is what I remember about the <span style="font-style: italic;">can't-get-out-of-my-head</span> waffle recipe we once relished:<br /><ul><li>I could've sworn the original recipe came from <a href="http://www.finecooking.com/">Fine Cooking</a>;<br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;"></span></li><li>I also thought that I ended up using a combination of two very similar recipes (from the same source) though I can't pinpoint exactly what the differences were (a bit more baking soda or powder??), and;<span style="line-height: 1.2;"></span></li><li>I am almost certain that I didn't whip the egg whites apart from the rest of the batter (which seems to be included in all of the delicious-looking recipes I can find now - my only problem with that being the whole quick and easy weeknight meal, in my opinion, goes out the window when I have to either <a href="http://twitter.com/karaskitchen/status/12481780595">whip the egg whites by hand for 10 minutes</a> or break out the mixer)<br /></li></ul><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok8L6JNbInoOMqCshwTG_FLxvcz0_dDpONNSNFbS1j5juNBE8uQpgZFrKfZ9NubsQyxS5W2xxEih_luk5ZUdUF5qAnU5pwfkrrIFQy7zx1W9pBzzYIlBdCy3uQXIiuA9iUQD7qLWVmkQ/s1600/Waffle+iron+steaming.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465603614146550274" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 266px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok8L6JNbInoOMqCshwTG_FLxvcz0_dDpONNSNFbS1j5juNBE8uQpgZFrKfZ9NubsQyxS5W2xxEih_luk5ZUdUF5qAnU5pwfkrrIFQy7zx1W9pBzzYIlBdCy3uQXIiuA9iUQD7qLWVmkQ/s400/Waffle+iron+steaming.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Does that ring a bell... at all? Does anyone even make homemade waffles anymore?<br /><br /><span style="line-height: 1.2;">Please, oh please, share your favorite waffle recipe. Even if you tell me the only way to achieve the texture and balance that these waffles once (upon a time) provided is to separate and whip the egg whites... then by golly, I'll do it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsqy6Nsq9XFgTMRlDlOez4VS_sWdxmkGR1Gms5NGkLtHfmQjd9yDk_44dX-z5T4UIsvwecQM30sXwHq2FXcodeeZe2tWWNCer-Vas1rK2qCtoX1GtBFSNXRbB6DUZSH3Zbt3kh2D0cYQ/s1600/Homemade+waffles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465603625182475650" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 266px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsqy6Nsq9XFgTMRlDlOez4VS_sWdxmkGR1Gms5NGkLtHfmQjd9yDk_44dX-z5T4UIsvwecQM30sXwHq2FXcodeeZe2tWWNCer-Vas1rK2qCtoX1GtBFSNXRbB6DUZSH3Zbt3kh2D0cYQ/s400/Homemade+waffles.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.2;">In the end, I realize that I may never uncover the exact recipe that produced these waffles, with their delicately crispy outside and light and fluffy interior. But it'd be a heck of a lot easier to venture back out into the world with your recommended recipe in hand.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"><span style="line-height: 1.2;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16464889186230330946noreply@blogger.com5