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 recent weekends in Philly... watching Navy pummel (sorry to any Army fans... but it's the truth) Army for the 9th year in a row.
For the first time in ages... and I won't even attempt a quick count... no members of my family were in attendance. No Jim's cheesesteaks (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 La Viola (weep... Carolyn, 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 was 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 so warm.
Warm at gametime, I should clarify. Where we found ourselves very early Saturday morning, however, was decidedly not warm. I'll blame my wishy-washiness on pregnancy and hormones but in the moment, I may 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 Arlington National Cemetery, laying wreaths on around 24,000 graves of our veterans and their family members.
Chris had read about this wonderful volunteer opportunity through our alumni group, CAN, 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.
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?).
**I'm not in anyway affiliated with Wreaths Across America, but just in case you are interested (there are tons of non-DC wreath laying ceremonies and donation opportunities), in helping out, click here.
Well, you really knocked that one out of the park, Kara.
Score: Pioneer Woman Book Signing - 1, Kara - anything but.
Before I indict myself (twice), let me say that Ree (the Pioneer Woman) is, if it's possible, even more gorgeous in real life then her pictures let on (and yes, even with mis-matched earrings... that, for the record, we were none the smarter about, though I did have a little chuckle noticing them in my pictures). And her nervousness is nothing but endearing... after all, how do you talk to a crowd of people who know your daily ins and outs but you know... well, nothing about them?
Her sweet personality just oozed both up at the podium as well as more comfortably seated at the table signing books, so you'd think I might have been a little more at ease. Not a chance. It was the heels... that I wore for Ree and her love of all things heeled - it really was. *sure thing, Kara
If the heels were my first mistake (as if she was going to examine my feet, right?), it was only downhill from there. Truthfully, the book signing experience couldn't have gone smoother, for Ree and Borders, that is, but it was a different story for yours truly. When Andrea (my dear friend who I dragged along with me... and the sole reason why we were in and out in under 30 minutes) and I suddenly found ourselves 3rd and 4th in line to get our books signed, my head started spinning. I had approximately 30 seconds to think of something other than a sheepish "hi"... and it didn't happen. On top of that, I'm fairly certain I repeated that prolific word more than once.
I should have stopped while I was ahead. Luckily, the nice woman from Borders broke the silence by offering to take a picture of us. Yes, please, that'd be lovely. After two unsuccessful tries, though, I started to see my chances of any documentation that this actually occurred slipping away. Thankfully the famous blogger-turned-author sitting between Andrea and me took it upon herself to let our photographer know that the camera hadn't actually fired and would she please try again. A few seconds later, we had our picture, and I stepped forward to capture a shot of just Andrea and Ree.
As fate would have it, I took this as my cue... yup, my entree into a meaningful and memorable conversation with the Pioneer Woman would be about photography. (mistake #1) So after snapping a picture of the two of them, I decided to inform Ree, she of Photoshop and Nikon-picture-taking fame, that if my pictures didn't turn out well, it was because she hadn't taught her readers (i.e. me) how to use the flash (which apparently would have cured all of my picture-taking woes). Course she's taught us all about ISO, which would have been an equally good (if not better) solution to my problem, but not tonight... on my one chance to talk to Mrs. Pioneer Woman herself, the only thing I had to say was to blame her for my less-than-stellar indoor (and let's face it, outdoor, too) photography.
She accepted my comments as gracefully as you'd expect, while I, after realizing exactly what I'd just said, quickly slipped away.
But I wasn't done... and I apologize sincerely to both Ree and Borders for what then ensued. As Andrea and I headed for the exit, we realized that we still held our yellow "group one" tickets; we walked almost smack dab into a very cute, very pregnant girl with a pink "last group" ticket - and to be honest, we didn't miss a beat. Andrea whipped out her ticket and offered it to our new friend, gifting her the opportunity to get her book signed right then and there, rather than waiting the countless hours that surely stood before her. I too found a grateful woman walking into the store yet without a ticket and handed her mine, just the same. While it's almost completely out of character for me act out against rules, those yellow tickets were burning a hole in our hands and certainly were right at home with their new owners (who hopefully were at home shortly after we were).
Other than that, it's not like I burned the building down or anything, so let's call it a success... or something. I did make it to meet the Pioneer Woman in one piece, and stupid accusations aside, left intact as well... after all, if you set your standards low, it's almost impossible to miss.
Bonus #1: Some Pioneer Woman recipes I've already scarfed down:
Oh, fine... for clarity's sake, I must interject. One thing my semi-silence doesn't mean is that I think my pictures are good enough to stand on their own... moreso that the beauty of these gorgeous trees (and their associated flowers) should not be tainted by my ramblings.
And lastly... (as if you expected me to stay quiet) I feel this final picture warrants some explanation.
On the second of my two lovely lunches spent down by the Cherry Blossoms, we had delicious, traditional Japanese picnic food - which I was told, is the only appropriate way to have a hanami, the Japanese word for "flower viewing". Two different varieties of freshly homemade onigiri (or "rice balls") - filled with either mackerel or pickled plum, and a hard-boiled egg!
I feel compelled to say that the Japanese have a good thing going... I couldn't have been more content as we feasted on both the views that their trees provide as well as their tasty snacks.
Not that it's the first time, but trust me when I say that the pictures that follow are a lot more interesting (though the quality is debatable) than anything I could say to describe them so for now, my words will be few (but don't expect that to last... I have, contrary to what's shown up around here, been in the kitchen with some Christmas cookies, after all).
So while I have every confidence that you could have pieced this together on your own at this point, I'll go ahead and spell it out for you... we recently took a great little tour of the beautifully (but modestly) decorated White House (yes, the White House).
The super tight security at the entrance was expected but an unforeseen delay and rumored snafu with the list (thanks, Salahis!) almost had the Secret Service turning us away. Just mere moments later (fully cleared and confirmed on multiple lists), we were en route to viewing a number of beautiful rooms, sharing the apparent same hallway that the infamous crashers used.
Everything about the White House was festive - from the multiple trees and decorations to the (appropriately) white chocolate-covered gingerbread White House. Of course, just outside of the walls of the hallowed building stood the National Christmas tree (a new version of the same one we'd seen last year), and a decked out street leading to the Capitol.
The mix of patriotism and Christmas cheer was just what the doctor ordered during busy holiday season. My favorite part of the tour was seeing all of the different Christmas cards that our Presidents have sent out over the years... now if I could only get on that list.
However you choose to show it... let freedom ring, today and always.
God bless America! God bless those who have served, serve today and will serve tomorrow! Let us never take their sacrifices to make this country the "land of the free" for granted.
And just in case these images of red, white and blue don't do it for you, read this.
This is the stuff Friday nights are made of - and I'm not just talking about the pomegranate margarita - moreso the fact that around these drinks sat friends taking in a beautiful, carefree summer evening.
Those same friends later strolled leisurely down the street and happily stood in a worth-every-minute-of-it line to get a scoop of gelato from Boccato.
And of course, what is a night without a few photo ops (complete with out-takes)...
Somehow, just today, it finally dawned on me (after living here for almost 8 years) that LOTS of people come to this beautiful and truly important city. And, all this time, we've just called it home.
ALL those people, we saw them this morning; and rightly so, most of them didn't give us (mid-heated rec-league softball games) a second glance. I, however, paused for a moment to marvel at the fact it's normal for us to play a softball game (or 14) in the shadow of the Washington Monument and across from the WWII and Lincoln Memorials.
So for you visitors - no matter why you came here, maybe patriotic or politically interested, or perhaps a history buff... welcome, we're so glad you came. Sometimes we forget that it's the world's interest in this city that really makes it go 'round.
But you'll have to pardon us, as well - we love this city just as much as you do, but we use those lawns you trudged across this morning more like this...
I'm fairly certain that my dad (and even my mom) qualify pretty easily as Blue Angels groupies. Our family's allegiance to anything Navy has already been well established but I've been able to keep this obsession of my parents under wraps... until now.
So was it a coincidence that my parents wanted to come visit all of us on the same weekend as a Blue Angels' show? Hardly. And we were happy to be dragged along. Especially since one of the pilots is a family/high school friend.
Charlie may have been the most willing participant... especially once his Nana had presented him with his very own Blue Angel plane.
Outfitted in his personal set of noise-reducing ear muffs, Charlie flew his own plane right alongside the elite Blue Angels crew. Unfortunately, his plane deviated quite a bit from the otherwise perfect formation.
Nana was very proud of her little John Deere-wearing, Deac-visored, future pilot.
We were happy to witness Charlie's first experience with non-farm equipment.
No clue who that is in the background of this picture... she seemed to be enjoying the show, too, though!
Blue Angel groupie jokes aside... I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend a Memorial Day weekend. It was especially meaningful to pause and remember those who've paid the ultimate sacrifice in the middle of a military airshow. May each freedom we have remind us daily of those who've gone before us to afford us those luxuries.
Two (pretty darn good) reasons why this'll be short: 1) It's very late, and 2) After one glance at these pictures, you'll agree that there's honestly not much I could say about the wedding we attended yesterday that would in anyway improve upon the beautiful couple that we were lucky enough to witness be married.
My only comment (I can't help it... sorry!) will be that besides a ton of fun dancing (a special thanks go to Brad for joining me in the dance from my favorite scene in Hitch), we were treated to some super cute and equally delicious cupcakes in lieu of a traditional wedding cake. I only tried the red velvet and chocolate varieties (only!) but both were delicious.
Saturday at "the Wharf" or "the Maine Avenue Fish Market"... call it what you will... I learned all sorts of things about fresh fish.
Including the fact that I knew very little to start with! Luckily, the two very experienced fish marketers we brought along taught us everything we needed to know:
Two acceptable ways to prepare a platter of mussels: hot sauce, vinegar and a squeeze of lemon juice OR hot sauce, Old Bay, pepper and a squeeze of lemon
Cloudy fish eyes (ewh!) and dark red or dried out gills = not fresh
Croakers are local and probably the freshest fish you can get 'round these parts... so why don't they sell them in our local grocery stores? (even our experts couldn't answer that)
Fish Market, you were worth the (8-year) wait, but now that we've met, I expect to be a frequent visitor. Next time hopefully to indulge in some Chesapeake Bay blue crabs.
A straight from the box, moist white cake with fun 'explosions' of little color throughout; eating usually elicits squeals of delight and hours of reminiscing about childhood birthday parties
Whoever invented the tradition of having cake on your birthday... pure genius.
Whoever invented sharing your birthday cake with great friends... we thank you.
Whoever invented Funfetti Cake... we doubly thank you (with sugar on top).
Amber's 29th was all-too-appropriately rung in with Sheila's beautiful Funfetti Cake - perfectly enrobed in pink icing and sweet sprinkles.
The rest of us sadly didn't contribute a whole lot...
Unless joining the birthday girl at dinner, and enjoying a great movie together, and finally scarfing down way too much cake counts for anything.
