tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46479109002830746082024-03-13T23:52:14.075-06:00Hail's Kitchenhailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-66025558893046330832019-12-18T11:46:00.000-07:002019-12-18T11:46:09.339-07:00Christmas Letter 2019Writing this post feels a bit like the Ghost of Christmas Past is standing beside me.What a strange, familiar feeling it is to visit the halls of Hail's Kitchen again! Alas, I've said it for years, and I'm holding myself to it, this blog (albeit archaic in design and function) will live again! I hope you'll join me in the new year as Hail's Kitchen gets a reboot. I hope to feed your bellies and your souls in 2020!<br />
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Enough about that . . .<br />
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">HO HO HO from the Malepeai Family!</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">These glorious photos are from my sister Julia's wedding this May in Mexico.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Hello dear family and friends! I hope this digital letter finds you and yours happy and healthy as we close out 2019. It's hard to believe another year is behind us, as they seem to go faster and faster. Our girls are both at such fun ages -- I wish I could pause time! Our third child, Rosey, is mellowing as she ages, thankfully. Ian is looking forward to chasing chukar with her this winter. She has big shoes to grow into, as we all still miss our Tuli dog. </div>
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Malia Grace turned SIX this November. Our big girl started full-day kindergarten in August. Watching her learn to read and write has been one of my biggest joys in parenting. Malia loves to sing and dance and moves through life with a lightness and brightness that draws strangers and friends to her. She played soccer this fall and clearly exhibits both of her parents' genetics. She had glimmers of Ian's athleticism -- scoring with ease and aggression one moment and then zoning out on the clouds, her hair, or her teammates the next (my excellent genetic contribution!). I'm curious which genetic propensity will win out. Malia has such an adventurous, brave, free spirit. She loves to put on frilly dresses and makeup as much as she loves to hunt for toads in the mud. </div>
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Maya Hope has evolved into a kid this year, and I'm such a slurry of emotions. Three is right around the corner (December 30), and it feels like she'll be getting her driver's license next week. Again, the pausing time thing! Maya's sense of humor and inquisitive nature keeps all of us on our toes. For the better part of the fall she called me Lady or Lady Mom, which was equal parts adorable and condescending. She'd assertively yell, "Hey Lady, get me (insert the demand of the moment)." Despite being a tiny dictator, Maya oozes love and kindness. Both our girls exhibit incredible amounts of empathy, but Maya is particularly sensitive to those around her and shares her loves and hugs when she can sense someone needs it. Maya cannot wait to get on skis this winter, and I'm certain she'll be chasing her sister down the hill in no time. I've found the perfect ski partners -- equal parts skiing and hot chocolate breaks!</div>
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The Great Samoan Hunter (further echos of Hail's Kitchen's past) continues to balance his job at the Idaho Dept. of Fish and Game with his newest title: Mountain West Football Official. Ian landed a position with a wonderful crew as Center Judge. He traveled hither, tither, and yon this fall with his new band of brothers. It's always fun when family and friends send screenshots of him on ESPN. He had a great season and it will be exciting to see what the future holds for him. The composition of Ian's little free time has evolved a bit, but he has two tiny fishing buddies who enjoy reeling in fish as much as he does. His outings now involve a few more snacks, more contingency plans, and also, a lot more fun. He's raising two outdoor-loving, river and mountain girls! </div>
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As for me, 2019 marked a year of personal and professional stretching. After four incredible years with Expedition Inspiration, I joined another amazing nonprofit out of Washington DC called the American Immunization Registry Association as their new Business Operation Manager. The change has been very bittersweet, as I am so incredibly proud of the work I did with EI. I made wonderful friends, traveled to some breathtaking places (the Summit of the Grand Teton in July -- the personal stretching!), and I'll forever be impacted by the mission and work. This new opportunity allows me to work from home, and I'll be learning all sorts of new tricks (audits, and annual reports, and contracts, oh my!), but I'm really looking forward to the challenge.<br />
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2019 brought us many blessings.We bought a new home, which has a dedicated, cozy guest room that is always open to friends and family. Despite the fun of a new house, shortly after moving in May, our kitchen flooded. After seven months, our kitchen is FINALLY put back together. It's been wild cooking meals in our makeshift garage kitchen, washing dishes in the bathroom sink, and stepping gingerly on sub-floor for months. We finally have a lovely new kitchen! We'd love to see you and cook you a meal should you land in Boise! Wishing you health, happiness, and love in 2020!</div>
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In peace love, and joy,</div>
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Ian, Hailey, Malia and Maya</div>
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hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-63542420858891423092015-02-25T19:50:00.000-07:002015-02-25T19:50:12.025-07:00Cheesy, yes. True, yes.I'm a big believer in envisioning the life you want. I love vision boards -- cutting out emblematic photos or phrases that strike me then as if by pasting the photos down, they become reality. It's a fun exercise to see what you're drawn to. My themes have remained largely unchanged since I started doing these boards years ago. Family, love, babies, home, travel are always central, though the images have evolved into <i>more </i>babies and more intimate details of the life, that I like to believe, I have manifested.<br />
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I had a friend warn me about such exercises, and what he said has some truth. He told me to be careful when envisioning my future. He said often life is so grand you can't envision the great things that are to come. The following adventure is such an example.<br />
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I always clip out images of white sandy beaches and turquoise water longing to one day walk those shores, but what my friend was warning me against was what's not included in those images -- the people, the circumstances, the stories, the laughter. Like I said, I couldn't have fathomed five years ago a trip like this with people who I love and have watched grow into husbands and wives and parents. I wish we could have packed up all of our friends who so desperately wanted to join on us but weren't able to make it. Next year we need to rent a compound. And hire a chef. And a maid. And maybe also a nanny.<br />
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Said adventure: three babies under three commingled in a two bedroom house in southern Florida where the temperature decided to dive to the coldest recorded in years. We also camped for two nights on an island in the 10,000 Islands, which borders the Everglades National Park. Our kids were covered in sunscreen and sand the entire week despite the cooler temperatures, and they squabbled and pinched and bit just like siblings. Our husbands were depressed that very few fish were caught. Us girls lamented the fact that we didn't get out to see <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i>.<br />
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Despite what did and did not happen on this trip, I left feeling buoyed by my friends' love and support. I miss them every day and the influence they have on me. I am lucky to have people who have seen me grow as a person and can celebrate where I've come from and who I am now. Cheesy, yes. True, yes.<br />
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Life is too short to spend time with people who don't feed your soul. This trip fed my soul, and I could never have envisioned that on a damn board.<br />
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Here are a few shots from the 700 I still need to edit. xoH<br />
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<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-15433691325328830992014-11-21T10:12:00.001-07:002019-12-19T16:45:35.430-07:00Crunchy on top, cheesy insideBehold! A recipe :) Happy Friday.<br />
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Cooking has always been a respite for me -- chopping veggies is as meditative as yoga. At least it was in a previously life. Cooking has evolved into a one-handed balancing act while I attempt chop, stir and assemble all with a baby on my hip. Some of Malia's favorite toys happen to be kitchen utensils, and I love that she's already "play cooking" with mixing bowls and spoons.<br />
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Needless to say, the meals that I manage to create these days are super easy and fast. Unless I have an extra pair of eyes and hands to help me with the babe, I'm no longer whipping up detailed recipes requiring multiple steps and ingredients. Thankfully, my baby is an eater. I don't normally cook anything especially for her. She eats what we eat, and to this point we've had great success. Tuli is also benefiting from this new routine of family dinners, as he inevitably eats as much off the floor as Malia gets into her mouth.<br />
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I've always tried to eat healthy, but now that I'm responsible for another human's health and well being, I have felt the need to step it up a bit. Not that the following recipe is super healthy -- cheese and pasta -- it does have the hidden ingredient of cauliflower for those picky eaters out there. The great thing about this mac an cheese is it can be eaten straight away or baked, plus you boil the pasta and cauliflower together so you can literally have it thrown together in the time it takes you to boil the noodles.<br />
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I used our family's favorite cheese EVER: cougar gold from the WSU Creamery in Pullman. I'm sure I've gushed about this cheese before, but in all honesty, it is one of the best cheeses on the planet. It's a sharp cheddar that gets better with age, makes fantastic cheesy eggs, and is impossible to stop eating. My kid sees the can come out of the fridge and starts drooling. Pavlov's dog theory is <i>real</i>.<br />
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You could use any sharp cheddar -- Tillamook makes a fantastic sharp cheddar that would be a close second. As with most of my recipes, you can use whatever you have on hand. I had some cream cheese and parmesan so I threw those in too. Sour cream would be great too. Milk or half and half. You get the idea, this recipe is versatile, fast and yummy.<br />
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This unassuming can tricks unknowing consumers into believing this is just canned cheese.</div>
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The name is accurate, it really is gold.</div>
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It took all of my willpower not to nibble my way through this pile of goodness.</div>
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I used whole wheat pasta so the cauliflower doesn't blend in quite as well had I used regular pasta. The cauliflower adds an additional layer of creaminess. I don't know if I'll ever make plain ol' mac and cheese again.</div>
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I had extras so I took a dish over to my neighbor who I've adopted as my own. She's ninety four and nearly done with her second round of chemo. She's fantastically brave and sassy, so much like my grandmothers. I love her and so does Malia. I feed her every chance I get.</div>
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Crunchy salad with apples, candied walnuts and manchego. </div>
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Crunchy on top, cheesy inside. Kind of like me.</div>
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See those eyes? Those are eyes begging for more cougar gold.</div>
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<b>Baked Cauliflower Mac and Cheese</b></div>
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1 head cauliflower, core removed</div>
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1 box elbow noodles, or any fun shape</div>
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1 clove garlic, minced</div>
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1 tbs dijon mustard</div>
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2 cups cream, half and half or milk (whatever you have on hand or combination)</div>
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2 - 3 cups sharp cheese (again, whatever you have)</div>
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breadcrumbs</div>
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thyme</div>
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salt and pepper</div>
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Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Boil pasta and cauliflower in the same pot following the directions on the box. Meanwhile shred cheese and grease a baking dish. Before draining pasta/cauliflower, reserve some of the cooking liquid. In the same pot you boiled the pasta/cauliflower, add the milk/cream, mustard and garlic. Simmer over low heat. Gradually add the cheese, stirring to melt. Add the cauliflower and pasta to the pot, breaking up the cauliflower into bite size chunks. Stir well to combine. Add a little pasta water if it needs a little more liquid. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Carefully pour into the prepared dish, sprinkle with the breadcrumbs, a little thyme and a bit more cheese. Dribble a little olive oil top, as well. Bake for about 40 minutes or until bubbly.</div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-77898148894365227632014-11-16T12:21:00.001-07:002014-11-16T13:07:26.903-07:00A year in the makingAs with everything on the site, this post is overdue. I've been writing this in my head over the past year -- in the rocking chair while I nurse Malia to sleep each nap/night, in bed when I can't sleep, in the shower (when I am able to sneak one in). Every quiet, hushed moment I've had the past year, I've been making notes. This post could be long, very long, so this is the abbreviated version.<br />
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Becoming a parent has been no joke. The Great Samoan Hunter and I have laughed at those couples who decide to make a baby as the last ditch effort to save their marriages. As amazing, miraculous and enriching having a baby is, it is also the most harrowing, testing and turbulent enterprise I've ever undertaken.<br />
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Our dramatic lifestyle shift from the country to the city provided me, my husband, our dog, our marriage, our grocery shopping bill with a host of new opportunities, the good, the bad and the expensive. I no longer have to drive forty-five minutes to the grocery store and Tuli no longer runs free for miles chasing birds out the front door. The Great Samoan Hunter now works 8 - 5, Monday through Friday with holidays off and even earns, wait for it, <i>comp time</i>. I <i>work </i>from home now. Translation: I furiously try to research, interview, transcribe, write and edit between naps, housework and life.<i> </i>For those of you who knew us in a previous life, the fabric of our careers looks nothing like it did a year ago. For that matter, the fabric of our lives resembles nothing of that life on the River.<br />
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I can sum up the past two years in a few words. We got married, my husband shot me, I spent the winter healing (gained a few extra baby-making-carrying pounds), we went on our delayed honeymoon in the land of coconut milk and honey where we, um, made a baby, we worked a final season at the Lodge, we moved to Boise, three weeks later we had a baby.<br />
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The purpose of this post, said baby.<br />
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Scan the Internet or social media and there are myriad blogs, websites, experts, parents, doctors and idiots inundating consumers (me, the new mom) with advice. Over the past year, I have devoured everything I can get my hands on in an attempt to better understand <b>X</b> topic (why can't I figure out this f*ng latch, OMG she has reflux, colic, lactose intolerance, why is she waking up every forty-five minutes, why is she sleeping so much, which diaper cream is best, should I use diaper cream, crying it out, cosleeping, baby carrying, teething, making homemade baby food, early reading?). You get the idea.<br />
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I follow all of these moms on Instagram and Pinterest who I both love and hate because they inspire me while at the same time making me super insecure. What I've finally realized and come to accept after a year of comparisons is that as the mom of my own toddling one year old, I am pretty pleased with how we're doing thus far.<br />
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Having a child has been the best learning experience for me, and those lessons began before she even took her first breath. However long-winded and meandering my thoughts, the purpose of this post is to celebrate my girl and share a few of the incredible lessons she's taught me, of which I try to remember and act upon each day.<br />
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Don't have expectations. I planned a natural, peaceful, seamless, vaginal delivery without drugs or drama. My delivery was high intensity, pain, emotion and drama. Malia made it very clear, very early that despite my wishes to be in control of <i>every </i>situation, I am not the driver of this car.<br />
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Getting shot taught me that life changes in an instant. Having a baby reinforced that. Of everything I've learned since this little person entered my life is the appreciation (and fear, to be honest) that it could all evaporate tomorrow. Sure there are moments when I find myself biting my lip in frustration, questioning myself as my mom and apologizing to Malia and everyone around me for my impatience. I try not to let my neurosis get the better of me because my days are so much more enjoyable when I step away from the computer, the dishwasher, the laundry and play with my girl. I tell myself daily, she will never be this little again. And I want to sob.<br />
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I'm as much the student as I am the teacher. One gem I've garnered from the attachment parenting philosophy is that I'm not here to force my routine on Malia. Rather, I need to work around what works best for her. Some parents may think I'm coo coo, but our days truly ebb and flow based on her rhythm. That's not to say we don't have routines, do you think I'd be writing this if we didn't have some structure? But learning to give up some control and allow my little person to be just that a creative, independent, confident little person has been a joy. She is my leader just as much as I'm her grasshopper.<br />
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It really does take a village. Malia has an army of people who love her. Few things make me happier than knowing she is supported from every angle. I love that we/she can reach out to all of our/her friends, family, neighbors when we/she needs something, anything. You really can't have too many people love your kid.<br />
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On that note, I never dreamed I could love someone/something like I do Malia. It's really impossible to put into words a parent's love for a child, and everyone tells you how profound it is. Before I had Malia, I thought I loved my dog. No, it's totally not the same. Sorry Tuli. This little baby who is now very much a toddler has transformed me into a more patient, more hopeful, more selfless, quicker bather/pee-er/groceryshopper/dishwasher-loader/typer girl turned mother.<br />
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That's just it, Malia has turned me into a mother. I am forever grateful for that opportunity. I love you so very much. Happy birthday, lovie.</div>
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<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-87696916532562393572014-05-06T08:36:00.000-06:002014-05-06T08:46:18.461-06:00Loved babyI am broken record -- time is going too fast. I feel I was just on here yesterday posting Malia's five month update. Somehow my tiny, quiet, sleepy infant has morphed into a baby.This past month has been exciting with lots of catching up with family and friends, Malia's first plane ride and a baby who desperately wants to move.<br />
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We rented a house in Florida with the Great Samoan Hunter's family. It was the first time we had all been together since our wedding. Needless to say, the little girls don't look like this anymore:</div>
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Malia watched every move these two made, and since our return, she thinks she's a big lady like them. It was incredible having the family together. We are all scattered across the globe, sadly. Someone needs to invest in a teleporting machine so we can get together more often. </div>
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We also caught up with some dear friends who recently had a baby boy. My ovaries let out a yelp when I snuggled his fuzzy little head. The post traumatic stress from the first six weeks of new motherhood has clearly evaporated. </div>
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Malia's personality has really started to show the past month. She has giggling and squealing down pat, in addition to ear-piercing screaming. She also is my little yoga protege, as she has mastered plank, updog, bow, happy baby! She sits like a champ, and she's rolling like crazy. She's also on the verge of crawling. Sitting still is not really an option anymore.<br />
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She has TWO teeth and loves to bite me. She's drawn significant blood once and thinks it's hilarious when she bites me. I am working diligently to squash this behavior, because once she has top teeth I am in deep trouble.</div>
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She drools her body weight daily. We joke that she must be dehydrated with the amount of liquid that comes out of her mouth. The top teeth are coming. <i>Shutter.</i></div>
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She's started solid foods. So far all we've tried are bananas, sweet potatoes and squash. She seems to think it's okay. She seems to be more interested in whatever we have on our plates, which I understand. Soon enough she'll graduate to finger foods and Tuli will be the happiest dog on the block. </div>
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She loves her bouncer and her car (scooter thing-a-ma-jig). She has only figured out how to go backwards. She magnetically scoots to houseplants where she proceeds to pull off all of the leaves. I swear she goes forward when I have my back to her. A number of friends have warned us about the various bookshelves, plants, decorations, etc that we have scattered around the house. Those all have to go, they said. Yeah I've got time, I said. We are no longer in the I-have-an-immobile-baby-in-the-house-stage. Houston, we have a mover.<br />
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She is napping WAY better. Like two naps a day, almost every day. Sometimes for THREE hours. Can you sense my enthusiasm? Napping baby = happy mom. Nighttime sleeping is not as great, but we are working on it. I figure I agreed to lack of sleep when I decided to take on this new role as Malia's mother. </div>
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She loves stroller rides. She loves riding in the baby carrier. She loves being tickled. She loves cell phones, tv remotes, ipads. She loves to put EVERYTHING in her mouth. She loves paper -- loves tearing it, crinkling it, and you guessed it, putting it in her mouth. </div>
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She has faces for days. She is so animated and happy. She smiles at everyone including the checker at the grocery store, the neighbors, the dog, the cat, the ceiling fan, the mirror, her sippy cup, especially her daddy, her grandparents and aunties. She loves smiling. Smiling is her favorite. </div>
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She gets more awesome every day. Seriously, I don't know how I could love her more than I did yesterday but it happens every day. I am nuts about this little person. </div>
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I can only imagine what the next month has in store. I get a lump in the back of my throat when I see how big and capable she has become (believe me I am well aware that's she's only six months old). I still sneak her into bed when she wakes up in the night rather than putting her back in her crib. She will never be this little again. I lay in bed and stare at her little cherub face, her rosebud lips. She often stretches both arms out, one hand resting on her dad and the other on me. I love watching her little belly rise as she breaths her sweet milk breath. Waking up next to her sleepy, smiling face is such a blessing. This life I've been given is the best. The. Best. </div>
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Sweet Malia Grace, I love you. Happy six months!</div>
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Click the upper left corner for tunes :)hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-29073953784296911692014-03-21T14:35:00.001-06:002014-03-21T15:07:10.918-06:00Are you mama's bird or mama's baby?!I realize that it's been four week since I've written. I thought blogging was tough to squeeze in with a demanding job. HA! My appreciation for time grows exponentially daily. The past month has been exciting in our house. The Great Samoan Hunter started a new job, one that he waited very patiently for. While we are thrilled he landed a job that is fulfilling, we miss him very much around here. I've spent more time with him in the last several months than I have since we started dating, and we still like each other.<br />
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It's been incredible getting to know our baby together. Malia has had a unique four months exclusively with her parents. It feels like yesterday we brought a tiny little infant home who did a lot of sleeping and eating. That little infant has morphed into a squealing, giggling, delightful little baby who now smiles with such joy at her daddy when walks in the door. I know she would smile at him because he is her dad. However, I am confident that smile twinkles like it does because she's seen him from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep for the past four and half months. Lucky girl.<br />
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Now Baby M and I spend our days together just the two of us (three including Tuli, poor neglected guy!). We're settling into a groove of naps (most days), chores, errands, and walks. I picked up a freelance writing job, which has been great fun writing for $$$! Needless to say, the poor blog has landed in the same category as my yoga practice -- back burner. I write blog posts in my head as I rock her to sleep each night. They are super entertaining! Maybe one day I'll get around to actually publishing them.<br />
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Today our girl celebrates her twenty week birthday. I fall more in love with her every day. My little human is a giggling , neck nuzzling, hugging, squealing, eating!, teeth growing baby! She has become interactive with an array of sounds she uses to communicate her moods, needs, wishes, secrets. Each morning she tells me what I like to think are her dreams from the previous nights. She whispers with breathy little coos that are the most charming sounds. This same baby is capable of making bird-like squawks and squeals. I often tease her, "are you mama's bird or mama's baby." Baby, silly.<br />
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This past weekend was big! Her first tooth erupted out of her pink baby gums. That sharp white tooth was disruptive for everyone, particularly for grandma who watched her for the first time while I got a much needed and much appreciated massage (thanks Jules!). She cried while I was gone. This child rarely cries. I thought she cried because she missed me, but it turns out she was teething. We saw this coming, as the past month we've all been covered in gallons of sweet baby drool. <br />
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With teeth comes eating. She tasted her first bit of rice cereal and is totally hooked. In fact, I feel guilty eating in front of her now because she looks at me like where's my egg salad sandwich mom? There's no going back now. She landed in the right family -- we're eaters.<br />
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More about Miss M:<br />
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We've transitioned from bassinet to crib. The Great Samoan Hunter was starting to wonder why we paid for that fancy bed. It took a few nights, but she seems to be enjoying her space. She's not quite sleeping through the night yet. She <i>usually </i>wakes up between four and six, at which time I sneak her into bed with us. There's nothing greater than waking up next to her smiling face.<br />
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She's learned to scoot -- backwards/sideways! I place her in the middle of her mat surrounded by her animal friends, which entertains her for a moment, and then the independent little Miss starts to scoot backwards. She moved about four feet yesterday, as was evident by the trail of drool.<br />
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Bath time is still the greatest. Well, perhaps daddy's arrival home is the greatest.<br />
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Teething hurts. When I say my baby rarely cries, I am serious. She cries occasionally in her car seat or when she's super tired or hungry. I heard sad cries I've never heard before, which broke my heart. I am sure there will be many more helpless parenting moments like that one to come. Boo.<br />
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She and Tuli are becoming increasingly interested in each other. At first he completely ignored her, leaving the room when she fussed. He now sits next to her when she plays on the floor, often licking her face (sweet milk breath!). She seems to like the feel of his fur, patting him with her little open hands. She already gravitates towards his face/ear/eyes. One day soon they will be the best of friends.<br />
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She's discovered her toes, she's nearly rolling from her back to her tummy, she's mastered upward dog and superman, and she's in the 90 percentile for height! This little person wants to move so desperately. <br />
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Malia loves her family. She's really recognizing faces/people. It's magic to watch her light up when she sees her aunties and her grandparents. We are travelling to Florida soon to meet up with the Great Samoan Hunter's family, and I can't wait for them to meet Malia. We're long overdue for some loving!<br />
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I'll stop myself here, as I could clearly spout for days about this girl. Month four has been exciting with lots of changes. I'm certain the next month will bring many more milestones and memories. I'll be sure to post some pics of our Florida adventures when we get home! xoH</div>
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Establishing good oral health habits early :)</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="true" height="384" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="https://cdns.snacktools.net/photosnack/embed_https.html?hash=ptuf4imm&t=1395435759" style="border: none;" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="576"></iframe>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-80265458147237548592014-02-26T08:59:00.000-07:002014-02-26T09:37:15.416-07:00Sixteen week river dancer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Twelve weeks has come and gone and I'm already late on my sixteen week update! We spent the weekend in northern Idaho with Heather and Nick. The Great Samoan Hunter has been bitten by the steelhead bug. He ties wildly colorful flies that look like art pieces to lure the willy creatures into his grasp. He's has landed one this season, which was a day as exciting as Malia's birth for him, but his fever has not abated. He and Nick spent sun up to sun down in the drizzly cold weather while Heather and Malia ate ice cream at the WSU creamer, snuggled up to watch <i>Pretty Woman</i>, and baked. Yes, we baked pies. From scratch. Crusts even. More on that later.</div>
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Alas, our road trip waylaid my update on our sweet girl. She's snuggled into our bed right now, cozy in the covers, her little hands tucked under her face. I'm hoping to finish this post and my coffee before she joins us for the day. </div>
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At sixteen weeks old, Miss Malia already thinks she's a big lady. One of her favorite activities is to stand and squat and stand and squat. She stomps her legs like she's a river dancer. If you try to place her on her bum she straightens her legs and stiffens up. This child is freakishly strong! She clearly has her father's endurance and strength because I get winded just watching her.</div>
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Bath time is Malia's jam. She loves it. If I wasn't opposed to the Internet seeing my child's naked body, I would post a video. (I will gladly share with loved ones so if you would like to see it, please let me know!). She kicks and kicks and kicks and kicks. And kicks! There is hardly any water left in her hot pink tub by the time she's finished! She has this tickled little look on her face that I'm sure comes from moving with the freedom she so desperately wants. We keep joking that she's going to skip crawling and go straight to walking. Her little legs want to move! Bath time is daddy's time, too. The Great Samoan Hunter bathes her and I gaze over his shoulder as he sings to her, washes her with such delicate care, and Eskimo kisses his baby. I love that my manly man is such a soft, sweet, loving father.</div>
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What else, she's sleeping longer stints, which makes all of us happy (except my rock hard baby feeders). She loves to chew on her giraffe Sophie. We all get a kick out of the little rubbery sound her gums make. She's becoming increasingly interested in food. She watches with great interest as we take bites. I'm curious if solids are around the corner. She's enjoying tummy time more and more. I place a menagerie of animals in front of her and invariably she gravitates towards something non-toy like her burp rag. I'm becoming keyed into the concept that babies like everything but their own toys. She's discovered her voice and her giggle and chatters away like she's having a conversation. Poor kid doesn't have a moment's peace, as I'm constantly narrating my every move. Looks like she'll be a chatter box just like her mama.</div>
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What I'm enjoying right now is she's gets more interactive everyday -- it's less of a one-sided conversation. Baby M gets sweeter and more loving, too. She snuggles into you when you pick her up. She grasps your arm and neck while holding her. It's spectacular watching her become a little person!</div>
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Everyday I wonder who she looks more like. Some days (most days) I think she is a carbon copy of her dad, but occasionally I get a look that reminds me of myself. I dug out some baby photos of the Great Samoan Hunter and me to compare. </div>
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My food photography has reverted to horribly lit and stylized. I suppose I am enjoying my new muse too much lately. I'll have Heather and my pie adventure on soon!</div>
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Until then, enjoy the sixteen week slideshow! Remember, turn on the volume :) Thanks Heather for the cute song inspiration! xo</div>
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<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-23703581224374935712014-02-05T10:43:00.000-07:002014-02-05T10:45:39.877-07:00Love big<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Having Malia has reinforced how blessed I am to be surrounded by loving family and friends. One of the primary motivators for our move to the city was to be closer to family. We even coerced my sister Julia to live with us. Living in the same city wasn't enough -- we had to be in the same house. It's been great fun seeing aunts, uncles, and cousins and catching up properly, more than just a quick hello/goodbye.</div>
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Since Baby M was born, we've seen my grandparents three times. That's more than I have seen them in the last three years. The first time they visited Malia was only three weeks old. I was elated to introduce our girl to her <i>great </i>grandparents. It was pretty incredible watching my Gran snuggle my baby and reminisce about me at that age. I was at the height of my battle with breastfeeding (this topic deserves its own post), and my poor nipples were wrecked. My baby-drunk Granny looked at me with such pleasure and said, "I just want to nurse her!" If only she could have, as I would have gladly accepted her offer. It was such a charming, delightful moment, one that will forever be sealed in my memory bank. </div>
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Sunday night as we were <strike>cringing</strike> watching the Super Bowl with friends, <strike>stuffing our faces</strike> eating an array of wild game appetizers -- antelope seven layer dip, chukar and pheasant satay, elk teriyaki -- my attention was drawn away to a family emergency. My Granny was in the ER. The last several years she's endured horrendous headaches resulting in several surgeries, facial numbness, loss of balance, among other icky side effects. My beautiful Gran persisted and toughed out the pain with grace, class and bravery. </div>
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We hustled down to the ICU where we met family bedside. With lots of hugs, tears and prayers we said goodbye. I watched in awe as my Grandfather said goodbye to his wife of <i>sixty </i>years. He looked at her with such peace and love knowing full well where she was headed. When the nurses made the final call that she was gone, he looked up at all of us, smiled and said, "She's just changed her address." </div>
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Baby M now has an army of grandmothers watching over and protecting her. I am certain that Granny Laree delighted in telling Grandma Joyce all about our sweet baby. Both of my grandmothers loved big. They reminded me each time I saw them, spoke to them or received a letter/email how much I was loved. I won't be surprised if Malia's first words are I love you, as I tell her all day/night long. Thanks to those lovely ladies I too love big.</div>
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Life is short and fragile. Love big. xo</div>
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I love you Gran. xo </div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-45919572540528673252014-01-24T14:28:00.002-07:002014-01-24T15:47:58.523-07:00Twelve weeks on the planet<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s amazing how much your life can change in a year. Last year at this time I was still recovering
from a bullet wound. How insane is
that? I still struggle with the reality
of this statement, “My husband shot me . . . in the ass.” I gained a little weight after the accident, and I was complaining about my new squishiness to a very wise girl
friend who replied, “maybe your body’s getting ready for a baby.” Not two weeks
later did I discover that I was pregnant.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I actually took the pregnancy tests at my
parents’ house. I wasn't feeling one hundred
percent, and my mom suggested that I might be pregnant. <i>No way</i>,
I remember thinking. However, we did
just return from our honeymoon in Samoa – the land of coconut milk and honey
and all things fertile. I remember
feeling like I was in trouble when I saw that little plus sign. You spend years praying you don’t get
pregnant (oops, cat’s out the bag. Didn’t wait till I was married), and then
when you see that positive test it’s very surreal. The Great Samoan Hunter was on a work trip in
San Francisco. That was quite the phone
call. Honey, I have something to tell
you. Are you sitting down?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The past year flew by, but the past three months truly evaporated before my eyes. This little human who was once sleepy and sedentary is now fully awake, kicking and grabbing and squealing. We're reminded daily by friends, family, and strangers (those are always entertaining conversations) how fast time flies. Twelve weeks has passed since my little human made her arrival into our world. I told the Great Samoan Hunter yesterday that those twelve weeks have been the happiest of my life. I never fathomed one year ago that my life could be filled with this much love. </div>
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Here's a snippet of what our little love bug is up to:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Discovering her voice. Everyday she extends her range, which delights us both. The changing table seems to be her choice locale for chatting/singing. It's great fun hearing her 'talk' and express different emotions. </li>
<li>Discovering her hands. She will extend her right hand and S.T.A.R.E. I wonder if she thinks it will disappear if she looks long enough. She also loves to eat her hands -- she seems to be after her thumbs, but can't figure out how to isolate them.</li>
<li>Smiling for days. This child smiles with her whole face -- her eyes, her dimples, her eyebrows. Smiling is her favorite.</li>
<li>Napping not so much. We struggle with sleep. Nighttime is not such a battle. Catnaps seem to be the rave -- ten minutes here, thirty minutes there. Occasionally we will get a two or three hour nap, and I seriously don't know what to do with myself. I go into baby withdrawals and break out in hives. Hello, my name is Hailey, and I am an addict. I'm addicted to my child.</li>
<li>Eating like a champion. She is Samoan.</li>
<li>Playing on her mat. She loves her hanging animal friends and has started batting and grabbing and swiping at them. She's also started scooting herself around on her back from one end to the other. I am not ready for her to be mobile yet, though she desperately wants to move.</li>
<li>Delighting all those who are lucky enough to meet her. </li>
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This list could go on for days and days. It's difficult to write about how much you love your child without overdosing in cliches and cheesy love song lines. I can't help it, she lights up my life.</div>
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I put together a random slideshow of Malia's first twelve months on the planet. I plan to do these updates monthly so family and friends near and far can see her growth. Notice how the pictures start out really sleepy and then become really smiley. Be sure to click the upper left hand corner to turn on the music. Last night I previewed the slideshow with the Great Samoan Hunter in bed. I am pretty sure he teared up too.</div>
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Also, here's a video of her playing on her mat last night. Pure delight!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="true" height="384" mozallowfullscreen="true" src="http://files.photosnack.com/iframejs/embed.html?hash=p7kl45lf&t=1390599681" style="border: none;" webkitallowfullscreen="true" width="576"></iframe>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-77923900437250956602014-01-22T12:13:00.000-07:002014-01-22T12:15:44.567-07:00Where is the pause button?I have to make a proclamation. I miss the blog. I miss writing. I miss taking pictures. I am going to try with all my might to post more frequently. I want to be able to look back in one year, five years, ten years and see what we were up to. <br />
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I need to hold myself accountable. Thus, the public announcement.<br />
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My excuse (I am full of them), I still have yet to figure out the very tipsy concept of time management with child. I always thought babies liked to sleep. My child fights sleeps, naps in particular, like she's being water boarded. When she does nap, I transform into a maniac with my hair on fire. I rush from one chore to the next -- laundry, dishwasher, sweep our endlessly dirty hardwood floors -- all the while juggling a piece of toast and cup of coffee. If I manage the time, I shower and <i>maybe </i>brush my teeth. <br />
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But You know what? I wouldn't trade these days for anything. Each day she transforms into a new little person. I swear she wakes up from a nap chubbier and longer with a new sound in her vernacular of coos and chirps. <br />
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This weekend we had a few friends over to watch the football games -- boo, hiss -- and at one point we had five little girls under the age of five. The Great Samoan Hunter looked at me as they scrambled after one another, "guess this is what birthday parties will be like." I love that he has that foresight.<br />
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It's been grey and foggy here in the big city. We spent Christmas at our cabin that is decking out with it's own natural hot spring pool. Today I am longing to sit in that hot, steamy water. Baby M loved her first swim. She's very much a water baby. Bath time is most certainly a highlight of her day and ours.<br />
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Here's our water girl and the family swimming at Christmas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSOapwssOmQPFaH3NH5Fz3imHjv6dai9PoKQpBh5qz5hXNM5LcBjTwDVLTeOAahySSY8m73H6gA4XsWfhRnbtGXGMWDy7uanfr3GoDqRKGKIoCvOYkzfjG7w-VuKtm_mVFO_ziMbawIeL/s1600/IMG_8473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSOapwssOmQPFaH3NH5Fz3imHjv6dai9PoKQpBh5qz5hXNM5LcBjTwDVLTeOAahySSY8m73H6gA4XsWfhRnbtGXGMWDy7uanfr3GoDqRKGKIoCvOYkzfjG7w-VuKtm_mVFO_ziMbawIeL/s1600/IMG_8473.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBrMo8lT3uWRILaFdd1uWcolq0Zza8VAeafhEXb9rVzOmPFz4Flj2zaONgrwZN47aXwNl3trQqAU_kKhq2w36RXM_mwepQibtc7k1hTIcb_qdaUAdYGquvJ4CC79od46WgTl2n_4FbhX1/s1600/IMG_8604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBrMo8lT3uWRILaFdd1uWcolq0Zza8VAeafhEXb9rVzOmPFz4Flj2zaONgrwZN47aXwNl3trQqAU_kKhq2w36RXM_mwepQibtc7k1hTIcb_qdaUAdYGquvJ4CC79od46WgTl2n_4FbhX1/s1600/IMG_8604.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Baby M turns TWELVE WEEKS old on Friday. Where is the pause button? I strive to be one of those obsessively cute Pinterest moms who tracks her baby's monthly progress. Any suggestions for fun ideas? </div>
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It's been nearly two hours without my little person. I must go upstairs and stare at her until she wakes up. xoH</div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-53818823731003088912013-12-06T13:26:00.000-07:002013-12-06T13:31:05.890-07:00I get it now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The last time you read this blog I made some claims about regularity and general awesomeness. I keep apologizing for appearing and then disappearing. Damnit! I love this blog and want to dedicate time and energy to it . . . but life gets in the way. Lately life (as always seems to be the case), has been a little nuts. I'll recap (again):<br />
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<li>We moved to the city! I no longer have to drive forty-five minutes to the grocery store. In fact, the night we arrived, I drove to the nearest grocery store at eleven at night and pranced through the aisles. Just because I could.</li>
<li>We moved to the city. Moving is about as pleasurable as a trip to the dentist, which is about as high on my enjoyment list as alien abduction. Thankfully we got good and settled before our next big event.</li>
<li>We had a baby. We had a baby! Our very own little human who is sleeping upstairs as I type furiously before she wakes up. </li>
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Those events combined have made my previous claims of regularity and awesomeness quite unrealistic. My kitchen has been occupied by loved ones who feed me as I attempt to eat one handed while nursing without splattering food on my newborn.</div>
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I've watched the evolution of my friends' lives on Facebook. Those who don't have kids post exciting pictures of their adventures, meals, nights on the town. Those with kids, post darling photos of their growing children and profess how awesome parenthood is. I was a member of the first category, largely ignoring those sweet baby photos (not because I wasn't interested but because I didn't get it). I GET IT NOW!</div>
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Having a child changes EVERYTHING. Your body, your emotions, your ability to shower, pee, load laundry and unload the dishwasher in less than 15 minutes, your perspective on life, your suspicion of strangers, your relationships with EVERYONE, your conversations with God, your capacity for love (this list is endless). </div>
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I get it now. All I want to do is take pictures of my child. Talk about her in every single breath. Instagram her ever-changing facial expressions. Hashtag everything with: #babylove. </div>
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So I apologize now if things shift focus a bit here at Hail's Kitchen. Some day I will cook again. I will regain use of my hands for something other than changing diapers and burping my little human. One day my camera will again capture images of delicious food items and adventures other than newborn care.</div>
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Until then, you get to see my life with child. I am fairly certain the meaning of life is found while snuggling the downy head of your newborn into your neck. xoH</div>
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Here's the micro version of life with baby:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHbf1NzZrWzppV3NjEqC2IU5ABC7gKjLUngMLonkh3g-dgjsbAb3PRo2ot2dn7tFezSX42WoPg6FKvF-fE69hl0VrD_lGO1etMPj0bZMOzx02EdwfWiuZWKuZxuBvkrBD3jG21DvOSwyB/s1600/IMG_7195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHbf1NzZrWzppV3NjEqC2IU5ABC7gKjLUngMLonkh3g-dgjsbAb3PRo2ot2dn7tFezSX42WoPg6FKvF-fE69hl0VrD_lGO1etMPj0bZMOzx02EdwfWiuZWKuZxuBvkrBD3jG21DvOSwyB/s400/IMG_7195.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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This is no longer the view from our backyard. Nor is the the view of my belly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_LZymuPuygc5zO7N4uw3EG1ATyXYqJAD8p7T-UpBHEzVQ7TAFQbg80g2Q2ptNTlIR63C4Xm42RTGqvF0PxA-Qb2fY2ya4EhKmTOHJiucqnSPnqfPJ1hEZkYwwz5ONVo4SXL_NALck5pa/s1600/IMG_7317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_LZymuPuygc5zO7N4uw3EG1ATyXYqJAD8p7T-UpBHEzVQ7TAFQbg80g2Q2ptNTlIR63C4Xm42RTGqvF0PxA-Qb2fY2ya4EhKmTOHJiucqnSPnqfPJ1hEZkYwwz5ONVo4SXL_NALck5pa/s400/IMG_7317.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Can you see how much fun I am having in the tub? So much fun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis2JnSOpmcferju3K3PaGcUguhs87N0LGIdQJogZdfzZt2EN_5xJslFD6kJnNGzZFYqWICJsCCIT6zrjkOssLySP5EIyJg-wf7Al9phZhQKq6_Nj4OqLDU4X-TV-jGa_yfFs-rlpUtBpr1/s1600/IMG_7353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis2JnSOpmcferju3K3PaGcUguhs87N0LGIdQJogZdfzZt2EN_5xJslFD6kJnNGzZFYqWICJsCCIT6zrjkOssLySP5EIyJg-wf7Al9phZhQKq6_Nj4OqLDU4X-TV-jGa_yfFs-rlpUtBpr1/s400/IMG_7353.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This was after several hours of natural labor in the tub, an epidural, several more hours of pushing,</div>
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and a baby that refused to come out the way God intended. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMMUf74LpQ0o6H2bHM88HGdH-hkip2qdOUvoc3MHkxxMBfrGk8uSrAUJpCcFvJJT4ehcBXXXCFD3IpJUoWI4RAMnlnR-uTU7ESqr0fp2MJnUcga0rLJWue2rhKM3vvF2XMm6IP72b1JkG/s1600/IMG_7358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMMUf74LpQ0o6H2bHM88HGdH-hkip2qdOUvoc3MHkxxMBfrGk8uSrAUJpCcFvJJT4ehcBXXXCFD3IpJUoWI4RAMnlnR-uTU7ESqr0fp2MJnUcga0rLJWue2rhKM3vvF2XMm6IP72b1JkG/s400/IMG_7358.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Malia Grace born November 1 at 3:58 a.m. 7 lbs 2 oz, 19.5 in.</div>
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Pure baby love.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkML25iksS5nSuNgkB46-BdceG2h4gcvwK1dpGGx7NZmk7OrHbsDJnP8Gdb-frM6_CNIU-izKVIRt9kaqtoUfPVm1kFNJvPz_80XvS1owxwCN_IuoTnU74M3KxYxA7ulZmbxr3cPnMlVy/s1600/IMG_7373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkML25iksS5nSuNgkB46-BdceG2h4gcvwK1dpGGx7NZmk7OrHbsDJnP8Gdb-frM6_CNIU-izKVIRt9kaqtoUfPVm1kFNJvPz_80XvS1owxwCN_IuoTnU74M3KxYxA7ulZmbxr3cPnMlVy/s400/IMG_7373.JPG" width="265" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHL81Dx_px41rJrhjS4AiFWgDU9qxIxkZYZfwFkGsw9hrSy6tTxs4il8Cw-28zWEhwkoG8aPqXAKM4iXpeD9jyezm6SyiJRMdi_TPs2TTespCegx8MkLDs4mX9uVLqoT7rjLWnj043Yv4/s1600/IMG_7384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaHL81Dx_px41rJrhjS4AiFWgDU9qxIxkZYZfwFkGsw9hrSy6tTxs4il8Cw-28zWEhwkoG8aPqXAKM4iXpeD9jyezm6SyiJRMdi_TPs2TTespCegx8MkLDs4mX9uVLqoT7rjLWnj043Yv4/s400/IMG_7384.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzWXB1kaV7bkmOI4REEymdWFwEKwTtPidyVzK179OHNtv3x8W2L9-H3bNOcC2ensbKWBU5wjZz1CpRPN092Bvie-whlOOy0wIPx_QbkmzNw7fgWM80ACns3wy0wQ1NDzLkJgY4zpkC4-G/s1600/IMG_7569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzWXB1kaV7bkmOI4REEymdWFwEKwTtPidyVzK179OHNtv3x8W2L9-H3bNOcC2ensbKWBU5wjZz1CpRPN092Bvie-whlOOy0wIPx_QbkmzNw7fgWM80ACns3wy0wQ1NDzLkJgY4zpkC4-G/s400/IMG_7569.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkvo2H5wuURiMOGRCgpoVTa43h9J1KzatCTe_XkPMqJLvqeMaZYEehNQpro6z6xwAOjSdLaflhvM2o57kUiG_cOjyM9JMUCma3JM_3DXmSWcWXhYeTPQThEUsUZ1Kedfqd80UrSlVB076/s1600/IMG_7728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkvo2H5wuURiMOGRCgpoVTa43h9J1KzatCTe_XkPMqJLvqeMaZYEehNQpro6z6xwAOjSdLaflhvM2o57kUiG_cOjyM9JMUCma3JM_3DXmSWcWXhYeTPQThEUsUZ1Kedfqd80UrSlVB076/s400/IMG_7728.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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The Great Samoan Hunter transformed!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTXqail-7qnh3jwbKq8QcLiGUdAA9mE-8huyQ-GJrdcZlVPZPG2v8nTLGIY5SZJkUP8B0FbgIhH_nsn3jsmN0D0tMJHWCorfcZOcpcEL_XzGHks7NZj-HmXDxhG_cCX21ZSEsqBRj52sl/s1600/IMG_7755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTXqail-7qnh3jwbKq8QcLiGUdAA9mE-8huyQ-GJrdcZlVPZPG2v8nTLGIY5SZJkUP8B0FbgIhH_nsn3jsmN0D0tMJHWCorfcZOcpcEL_XzGHks7NZj-HmXDxhG_cCX21ZSEsqBRj52sl/s400/IMG_7755.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNbp5rIfC4xFR-NV8OEeA2V6J9CQPYFXnWhE7N24Iazfg3pm8bp4tm8WJxHcE9M__oynD9rq1KQF2tevmt2o1-O2AzMfcb5tlsVaqvN7BNgfh3TAnjjUyCAkwYp2PA67Rx1It4SpOmPmF/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNbp5rIfC4xFR-NV8OEeA2V6J9CQPYFXnWhE7N24Iazfg3pm8bp4tm8WJxHcE9M__oynD9rq1KQF2tevmt2o1-O2AzMfcb5tlsVaqvN7BNgfh3TAnjjUyCAkwYp2PA67Rx1It4SpOmPmF/s400/photo+(1).JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Our first attempt at baby carrying. Great success! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XWaBCKcjm57blwEGIp0inh5y7wvSdCfswRZWl328aB6jqgT3JZJ8OT2vWXb1GGEz6rV_WdoofVWaw0CTu6X3I0g1dMwYE644DVplrKyBqRm59R0vPMtx2A1k9R81N3iVdX48yWhgmUVm/s1600/unnamed+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XWaBCKcjm57blwEGIp0inh5y7wvSdCfswRZWl328aB6jqgT3JZJ8OT2vWXb1GGEz6rV_WdoofVWaw0CTu6X3I0g1dMwYE644DVplrKyBqRm59R0vPMtx2A1k9R81N3iVdX48yWhgmUVm/s400/unnamed+(1).jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Cutest baby ever. No bias here.</div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-10865302878004355112013-08-05T11:30:00.001-06:002013-08-05T11:35:49.049-06:00Pop a cap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I can't believe today is Aug 5. Where did July go? I have an unusual Monday off today. My cohort at work is taking some time off this week so I am home enjoying my second cup of decaf coffee and have no plans of getting out of my jammies. Tuli may ask me to put on some clothes for our walk -- we'll see.</div>
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It's already been a few weeks since our adventures into bear country. We returned from two days without cell service and interactions with humans other than ourselves revived and refreshed. Amazingly, we had the campground entirely to ourselves. I did get a little nervous when it was time to leave and hightail it back to work that the truck wouldn't start. No phones. No people within miles. No work!</div>
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The truck started.</div>
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The Great Samoan Hunter and I had a ball reflecting on our own family camping trips as kids -- the traditions, the meals, the memories. We each spent summers at Redfish, and I wonder if we ever crossed paths cruising around on our bikes with our Junior Ranger stickers proudly plastered to our windbreakers. I like to think we did.</div>
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I also spent a fair amount of energy this trip willing bears away from our camp. I don't go anywhere these days without a roll of peppermint Tums in my pocket. The campground was covered in signs alerting visitors to grizzly bears in the area, food storage bins were provided at each site (just days after we left, a biologist was bitten in the area). Laying in my sleeping bag munching on my Tums, and I asked the Great Samoan Hunter, "do you think bears like peppermint?" Don't worry he kept repeating, his 44 magnum hand gun resting next to him, "I'll pop a cap in any bear's ass." Yes, honey, I think you have the credence to say that. </div>
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We ate great food, we fished a ton, napped, explored beautiful country, I pretended like I was on the Lewis and Clark expedition, Tuli ran and ran and ran and attempted to eat every horsefly in the camp. It was a glorious 1.5 days away. I can't wait to go back. You can come with us next time, but we may blindfold you.</div>
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This was the view from our camp. The Great Samoan Hunter crossed a little island and</div>
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Tuli could not stand to be away from him. </div>
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Wait for me Dad!</div>
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I am hustling!</div>
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Careful now, Tuli.</div>
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Didn't see that coming. </div>
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Poor dog.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9sWlsKYHqrKOkHDrCI3d8IgOmFHSdYxZEGntpwyidW7x8ieNfc37ONiNaeh-wd6Halzs7V_LMze92YtQ7tm6lMT18JZewIjhxpjgXbhI-Nf_iTG65vZJyZli3WkmTpWF0OeaItpY91Mty/s1600/IMG_6715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9sWlsKYHqrKOkHDrCI3d8IgOmFHSdYxZEGntpwyidW7x8ieNfc37ONiNaeh-wd6Halzs7V_LMze92YtQ7tm6lMT18JZewIjhxpjgXbhI-Nf_iTG65vZJyZli3WkmTpWF0OeaItpY91Mty/s1600/IMG_6715.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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I think he was contemplating a second attempt.</div>
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Never mind.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60Nh5FkOVv5FzGQp9SlqfdW1UoWzoe2-nNcunATdA2a1YDoFwV0Cv7LhPj5NK35OWIJi21icfDdiyiJvRXFEIDxEp-vXI-9dVSJsV0c0N-UkrCPcXPBYGQ4q3EG3yDPPIRuaWAeVCWGUd/s1600/IMG_6717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60Nh5FkOVv5FzGQp9SlqfdW1UoWzoe2-nNcunATdA2a1YDoFwV0Cv7LhPj5NK35OWIJi21icfDdiyiJvRXFEIDxEp-vXI-9dVSJsV0c0N-UkrCPcXPBYGQ4q3EG3yDPPIRuaWAeVCWGUd/s1600/IMG_6717.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Defeated.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLkSsqxdCwdP3DmbGUADVwWPKrW1JD9a3Ev35EWSHmCp8ss2NYF-zp_T5XLSVrgkaEJBVO6EthndMsTi65r378oykx7QiLmcrFVv9kz9yIeCVY6HvzUfwmFuggLSmQoDcv5hsNwBmNfIo/s1600/IMG_6718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLkSsqxdCwdP3DmbGUADVwWPKrW1JD9a3Ev35EWSHmCp8ss2NYF-zp_T5XLSVrgkaEJBVO6EthndMsTi65r378oykx7QiLmcrFVv9kz9yIeCVY6HvzUfwmFuggLSmQoDcv5hsNwBmNfIo/s1600/IMG_6718.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Forlorn.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEA68U0V9Koq43w8jeBMWXTF0WZ1xDLuDHx-XIJQRHzUHhufKm95dBYlYVdOLvynqrbjofjUnkCn-X_UhoRD-vRLN0bDnveQQnU3MeUptuVm9XHC9d_a9dMs-8OcSs_hLlsz9hdmYutQQl/s1600/IMG_6725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEA68U0V9Koq43w8jeBMWXTF0WZ1xDLuDHx-XIJQRHzUHhufKm95dBYlYVdOLvynqrbjofjUnkCn-X_UhoRD-vRLN0bDnveQQnU3MeUptuVm9XHC9d_a9dMs-8OcSs_hLlsz9hdmYutQQl/s1600/IMG_6725.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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He eventually swam across. Funny dog.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_JmGCjmKhuQzfoujwSFATtrOs29KUWQs72a7n1DDNv5jH7lO4E9Ehhrye6yh17fkEOZL-KAmikvYg4Kx5FkRevnRVuc_CxwkrDwk5T9Il7X0VdqP1RsurQy6W2ngo8NB-q-5tEGnZy2MZ/s1600/IMG_6732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_JmGCjmKhuQzfoujwSFATtrOs29KUWQs72a7n1DDNv5jH7lO4E9Ehhrye6yh17fkEOZL-KAmikvYg4Kx5FkRevnRVuc_CxwkrDwk5T9Il7X0VdqP1RsurQy6W2ngo8NB-q-5tEGnZy2MZ/s1600/IMG_6732.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Bear spray, check.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKA4VCpbcYzL0a2mmecglF5Ipww6W7YKgRkFUcfaxBbdY2FX0MbcrX0elxIKJal2ExFm6HEtx0BktWipaO8weSFXPGLbTtHyyqNBy5tut3rVhyLI2kqoAZFPxO_s-SBSl95as0oUxX0zzl/s1600/IMG_6746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKA4VCpbcYzL0a2mmecglF5Ipww6W7YKgRkFUcfaxBbdY2FX0MbcrX0elxIKJal2ExFm6HEtx0BktWipaO8weSFXPGLbTtHyyqNBy5tut3rVhyLI2kqoAZFPxO_s-SBSl95as0oUxX0zzl/s1600/IMG_6746.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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First, one should never squeeze their arm against their fly rod in any photos - pregnant or otherwise. Not flattering! </div>
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Second, we caught at least fifty of these little brookies and rainbows. </div>
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It was a quantity over quality kind of trip.</div>
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My standard fish photo. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQtUXvTPTekVXDynPEWZiTrCi9ZQ0KgDOZcymb5vPmeAAvM3ZNhoPs3PwEHDV3C-FrHB0xRB0JzYHc2yzyEBUaka7wIyVD3wZ4n4NN08JGP3xaPsXgT_EBDEe0lsvCDUstlGU_8gkXos9P/s1600/IMG_6778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQtUXvTPTekVXDynPEWZiTrCi9ZQ0KgDOZcymb5vPmeAAvM3ZNhoPs3PwEHDV3C-FrHB0xRB0JzYHc2yzyEBUaka7wIyVD3wZ4n4NN08JGP3xaPsXgT_EBDEe0lsvCDUstlGU_8gkXos9P/s1600/IMG_6778.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Great Samoan Hunter lost this exact fish earlier in the day. </div>
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We returned after dinner and he landed him. My husband is the man.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxVWK4s1S4Rzt255U4u8BVqQBJ93LgBCOuAZBMk1y_CK2OBnqySm2nkHXRflJ4p0b6voa1w_2kVDR3z8fOD1PNNGnWllEUhOCv679uzO9Q2MtlEQR_A8XFc8C8AjVEeot818fFqts5YRE/s1600/IMG_6705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxVWK4s1S4Rzt255U4u8BVqQBJ93LgBCOuAZBMk1y_CK2OBnqySm2nkHXRflJ4p0b6voa1w_2kVDR3z8fOD1PNNGnWllEUhOCv679uzO9Q2MtlEQR_A8XFc8C8AjVEeot818fFqts5YRE/s1600/IMG_6705.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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French press coffee and pastries in the mountains taste divine.</div>
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Apres fish. Keeping it classy with smoked mussels.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVQdEmR9964zLYZceNd_0syS4IDcu3ZydUU0g9huawX5nbmjS1CxRGJJTAgb1LyvUeSzwqE0fq0Tj6tOBwHGpXMKz7MEx8vgzHQ4OZ9wSINMiI5arK2OTtU9UfDGlJ7AC4UWuTCN-LRba/s1600/IMG_6783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVQdEmR9964zLYZceNd_0syS4IDcu3ZydUU0g9huawX5nbmjS1CxRGJJTAgb1LyvUeSzwqE0fq0Tj6tOBwHGpXMKz7MEx8vgzHQ4OZ9wSINMiI5arK2OTtU9UfDGlJ7AC4UWuTCN-LRba/s1600/IMG_6783.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Chicken thighs cooked over coals seasoned only with fresh lemon juice. </div>
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Makes for the most tender, juicy chicken you'll ever taste. Try it on your grill at home. </div>
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Tin foil veggies.</div>
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Great day followed by a great meal. I tried to capture the smores (made with CARAMELLOS!).</div>
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Sticky fingers + camera = bad news.</div>
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I actually have a recipe to post soon so stay tuned. Have a superb week, all!</div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-61231753822504675162013-07-24T16:48:00.001-06:002013-07-24T16:48:46.861-06:0033 by 33<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This afternoon as I was uploading photos, the first shot to come up was this beauty:</div>
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I wasn't exactly sure what it was until I remembered the attempt to capture my big rainbow from last week's outing. It's probably a good thing photos don't come equipped with other senses, because what you don't experience from this shot are the expletives erupting from my mouth. I swore then I pouted. Stupid fish.</div>
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Each year the Great Samoan Hunter and I write a list of things to do before our birthday the next year. This year we each have 33 things we would like to do before we're 33. Our 33 before 33. Last year, he checked the most monumental off of his list -- killing an elk with his bow. I think six pack abs were on both of our lists, which both went unfulfilled, sadly. </div>
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One thing that has been on my list each year is to explore the Southeastern corner of Yellowstone National Park. It's backcountry access only, waterfalls and interesting water features abound, and there's fish to be had (in addition apparently to the Park's largest population of bears). </div>
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I am not sure how many people know where exactly they were conceived. As much as I don't enjoy the thought of my parents procreating, I do love the fact that my entrance into the world was in Yellowstone. It's one of my favorite places on Earth, and despite the throngs of Japanese tourists each clutching their cameras worth more than my car, I still get a thrill looking at the hot pots and colored pools. This trip will offer a whole new aspect of the park, one that will most certainly lack the tourists and crowded parking lots. I can't wait to report back on what we see. </div>
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I have spent most of today prepping for our two night's camping trip. We'll be camping just outside the roadless entrance with the convenience of bear-proof food storage receptacles at each site. Since we won't have to pack in/out, our Yeti cooler is full, and I am ready for some fireside meals. Translation, I am going to eat smores until I am sick. </div>
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The following salad is a summer staple. Forgive me if I have posted it before. It is worth duplicating, I promise. Spaghetti squash is by far my favorite squash. It transforms from a plain, unsuspecting oblong to lovely, little squash tendrils. This salad keeps great in the fridge and makes a fantastic side dish to anything grilled. Try it. You will like it.</div>
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I am off to pack my bear spray and my marshmallows. xoH</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpcfqSMi2PVpAFFbp1_2G1mfFvd3boqClrMEFX6yG7N9YTFF92fSs2X_S4yZ6Vfj77QI9BjUsxIrBzpS6gwwzcJyH5euZvUewscyQPv0M3FnL8vNqqbIKqeNw9WafUMjzjI05I-ZqHjQK/s1600/IMG_6659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpcfqSMi2PVpAFFbp1_2G1mfFvd3boqClrMEFX6yG7N9YTFF92fSs2X_S4yZ6Vfj77QI9BjUsxIrBzpS6gwwzcJyH5euZvUewscyQPv0M3FnL8vNqqbIKqeNw9WafUMjzjI05I-ZqHjQK/s400/IMG_6659.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Cut your squash in half, pull out all of the seeds, drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.</div>
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Roast in a 350 degree oven for about an hour.</div>
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Gently pull back the threads.</div>
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Shred until you have individual tendrils.</div>
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Mix together with about 1 cup halved cherry tomatoes, 1/2 cup feta cheese, one small minced garlic clove, and 1/2 cup chopped, fresh basil.</div>
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Toss all together with a little extra olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.</div>
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I also BAKED today. Rhubarb, blueberry, peach cake for our camp breakfasts. I will post the recipe when I get back. I 'quality control' tested a bite while they were still hot, and they are delicious!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9XHMtwBrw534zkM8VpAsTSAsNI4I6XB8oMHmacRpu3go-F2S6Psy4kXI3Ngq1cBotid7s6f8FKesf_B6fZWsIU7aE9o5w4C-_2HfKd8gD4MH_CxOVyqprJ5j4isKsquOJLrlViQhHziR/s1600/IMG_6698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9XHMtwBrw534zkM8VpAsTSAsNI4I6XB8oMHmacRpu3go-F2S6Psy4kXI3Ngq1cBotid7s6f8FKesf_B6fZWsIU7aE9o5w4C-_2HfKd8gD4MH_CxOVyqprJ5j4isKsquOJLrlViQhHziR/s400/IMG_6698.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Here are my goods prepped and ready for the cooler:</div>
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curried mango chicken salad, squash salad and tin foil dinner fixings. </div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-63585911775718918752013-07-19T11:38:00.001-06:002013-07-19T11:55:51.706-06:00H and G. Hello and goodbye.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I mentioned last week, today is my Monday. I am lucky that I don't have to be in until this afternoon -- I can linger in my weekend bliss a bit longer. However, I feel a sort of obligation to be production in these last few hours before the long week starts again. Rather than check items off my chore list, I have chosen to stay in my jammies, eat cottage cheese and enjoy my morning at Hail's Kitchen.</div>
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Yesterday the Great Samoan Hunter and I had a shared day off. These days have been rare lately -- we're literally like ships passing in the night. He is off to work by 6:30, in bed by 10:00. I am usually home around 10:30 to find him snuggled into bed. Remember this saying from <i>Sleepless in Seattle</i>? H and G. Hello and goodbye. So is our schedule from May - October. </div>
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He had a meeting with a vendor in Jackson, and I jumped at the opportunity to eat at a restaurant other than my own! We ate an early sushi lunch -- I am counting down the days when sweet, tender sashimi will pass these lips -- tempura shrimp and veggie rolls do a pretty good job of satiating the craving, and I strolled the streets of Jackson like a tourist. </div>
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As soon as the meeting was over, we hightailed it back to our sleepy side of the mountains. This country mouse can't handle the city -- albeit Jackson. Funny how quickly one becomes accustomed to no street lights.</div>
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We then jumped in the boat for an afternoon float, and the only good fish we (I proudly) landed, managed to evade my camera. Fish photos are not my thing. I get stage fright and they leap out of my hands before the shutter can catch them. I pulled a chicken out of the freezer, but alas, it was still frozen when we came home. One can never have too many frozen, Papa Murphy's pizzas on hand. I also failed to make any rhubarb treats. Baking typically requires butter, and am I out of butter. The challenges of country living!</div>
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Here I am with no adventure or food photos. However, I have been having great fun looking through my photo archives. This computer has been in storage since October and hold loads of wonderful memories. Writing about gardening this week made me long for our days on the 'farm.' It was a such a fun respite, despite the back-breaking work it required. I miss playing in the dirt and dreaming of the day when I can have my own little farmer's market stand. </div>
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If only I could win the lottery, I would be the world's best homesteader. You know the adage, the old man goes to church every day and prays in front of the statue of a saint. "Please, please help me win the lottery." Eventually, the saint comes to life and tells the man, "My son, please, please buy a ticket." I buy my ticket weekly.</div>
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Have a grand weekend all! Go buy a lottery ticket for good measure. </div>
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Second year asparagus. </div>
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Not sure which is sexier, the irrigation boots or the garlic. </div>
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Lovely Belle.</div>
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Lovely Heather.</div>
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One can never have too many bottle openers.</div>
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This next progression made me laugh out loud. Funny dogs. No plants were harmed in this mayhem.</div>
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<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-1643505976452820892013-07-17T13:18:00.001-06:002013-07-17T13:18:54.971-06:00Dinner before 10:00 p.m.This is the first summer in several that I have planted a garden. I like to think I have a green thumb, in fact, gardening is my genes. Both of my great grandfathers were spectacular gardeners. The Judge and my mom attempted their hand at 'farming' with our little acreage that proved to be such a labor of love it exhausted all of us. We all miss the farm. Especially the Judge and his tractor.<br />
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One of my first projects after moving into our new house was planting a small, container garden. Unfortunately, our growing season here is about two months. The snow starts falling around October and melts about March, but then intermittently spits until May. I optimistically waited until mid-June to plant, assuring myself we were beyond any late-season frosts. <br />
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One particularly chilly night, I contemplated covering my little friends in the backyard. Damn intuition. I woke up the next morning to my windshield covered in frost, as well as my tender tomato, pepper, squash, watermelon and cucumber plants. I could have cried.<br />
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For then next week or so, I ignored the pots in the backyard. I couldn't stand to look at those sad, withered plants. Feeling guilty, I started watering them again, trimmed back their frozen bits, talked sweet nothings to them. Amazingly, they have started to sprout life. They have even managed to produce! I picked my first tomato and peas grown from my own efforts in years.<br />
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My poor little plants look a little wonky now, their tops lobbed off, the remnants of the freeze still lingering on a few leaves. But hey, we're all a little wonky with our own freezer-burns. I know I sure am -- and I am bearing fruit! Sorry, couldn't help the analogy. <br />
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I have two days away from the Lodge, which makes me a little giddy. I taught yoga this morning to my little group of local ladies, I have some domestic duties to tend to, and some rhubarb to bake. I may even take a nap. I told you I was giddy.<br />
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There's still hope!</div>
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Maybe not so much for this guy.</div>
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Last night I actually made it home before the sun set. It was so strange to be home at a reasonable hour that I didn't quite know what to do with myself. What do most people do at night? Eat dinner before 10:00. The Great Samoan Hunter was equally as shocked when he came home to a prepared meal other than a bowl of cereal.</div>
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This is not a super original meal. In fact, it's probably a staple in your home. However, I did get creative with my tortillas. I was hankering for a crispy shell. My hankerings these days are really difficult to dispel. I have nearly driven to town several times for a bean and cheese burrito from Fiesta Ole. I. LOVE. THEM. I was hungry for crispy shells and all I had on hand were soft wheat tortillas. Here was my solution:</div>
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Baked them draped over the oven rack for about 10 minutes at 350 degrees. </div>
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They came out looking like these perfect, hard taco shells!</div>
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Sauteed yellow onion, garlic and ground beef with a can of tomatoes,</div>
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cumin, oregano, chili powder and red pepper flakes.</div>
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Lovely little radishes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCMjM4uqUKo5osrNdrbmGQQ_U38K_AYC_HLwT1mTEBIL5tBC8SS7-ysgNGmqeRFqhE2pcZK3TpUZge-3Xn9_hIHa311wfBQClQ-WkTWGDKRG9Q_6UQRgzL4iRk8BZai_in1yQDl6H69vQ/s1600/40541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCMjM4uqUKo5osrNdrbmGQQ_U38K_AYC_HLwT1mTEBIL5tBC8SS7-ysgNGmqeRFqhE2pcZK3TpUZge-3Xn9_hIHa311wfBQClQ-WkTWGDKRG9Q_6UQRgzL4iRk8BZai_in1yQDl6H69vQ/s400/40541.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I even had time to make some homemade pico. It really is wonderfully unique and refreshing salsa with </div>
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the addition of diced cucumber and avocado. You can find the recipe <a href="http://hailskitchen.blogspot.com/2012/03/one-pot-wonder.html?q=salsa">here</a>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSLsBwiU9mXysPFl2dHN_kNEVK3Yo3h9NViq7-ZW1lP6ZZxsBsjgEFvd6BqP3mHL7oesYB5F7x0QY-OpdWbmq0in9LDZ9Yw8Qfgr7_lCkZJdfuDhJS_zrO5e485vnCb_t79gNQ46Pt8X7/s1600/6346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSLsBwiU9mXysPFl2dHN_kNEVK3Yo3h9NViq7-ZW1lP6ZZxsBsjgEFvd6BqP3mHL7oesYB5F7x0QY-OpdWbmq0in9LDZ9Yw8Qfgr7_lCkZJdfuDhJS_zrO5e485vnCb_t79gNQ46Pt8X7/s400/6346.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Hates don't hate. This is the most spectacular topping for corn on the cob. </div>
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Mix about 2 parts plain yogurt with 1 part crumbled feta. Smear over your steaming hot corn.</div>
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Delicious! Makes a great topping for tacos, too.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKlNlHPLFriuYIn22QggytU-a4JZzwSFBH6W88LgIxizBpz1A9baElu7jTjXPkTB2UbivQ3fqai2eBrFMy7fkKVw2Z1YpXzTzX09fKM08ULkz-Aj6t7itnZyLw5U5Fb8rzc-y9Qwiz4s1/s1600/25060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKlNlHPLFriuYIn22QggytU-a4JZzwSFBH6W88LgIxizBpz1A9baElu7jTjXPkTB2UbivQ3fqai2eBrFMy7fkKVw2Z1YpXzTzX09fKM08ULkz-Aj6t7itnZyLw5U5Fb8rzc-y9Qwiz4s1/s400/25060.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Light, healthy, fresh and homemade! I could get used to dinner before 10:00.</div>
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A number of you have asked (begged, pleaded, lovingly hounded) me for a photo of Baby M's progression in my belly. Here she is 25 weeks, 6 days in all of her (my) glory. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ar60Xy1Z2OIdWR4NBilD69vMQawVR_hBvJxAg_H1KjhMVXSfK-OM1PKvDEsSFGoQPj1omaxL5q56K2pA8oD-XvFuzbZl6eV3GUduIPzk-ev48F3V9nczgfL0DtIILxkIyswTWlvrOlPe/s1600/IMG_6652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ar60Xy1Z2OIdWR4NBilD69vMQawVR_hBvJxAg_H1KjhMVXSfK-OM1PKvDEsSFGoQPj1omaxL5q56K2pA8oD-XvFuzbZl6eV3GUduIPzk-ev48F3V9nczgfL0DtIILxkIyswTWlvrOlPe/s320/IMG_6652.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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xo H and Baby M</div>
hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-77683975986281508312013-07-12T11:28:00.000-06:002013-07-12T11:39:07.108-06:00Sweating bullets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of the most time-consuming and gratifying aspects of blogging is photography. Anyone who has eaten with me (while I am blogging) is familiar with the constant presence of my camera lens nosing around in his or her meal. The last several months my camera has been filled with images other than those captured in my kitchen, which is slightly more entertaining than the various stages of pork schnitzel. </div>
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This morning I was treated to a montage of the past year -- wedding photos, fishing trips, numerous Tuli photos, and the best, honeymoon photos. We had to suspend our Samoan honeymoon due to the "accident." Amazingly, my wounds closed just in time for the trip and not a soul mentioned the gnarly scar peaking out from my teensy bikini (purchased pre-bullet wound). Samoans are glorious people.</div>
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My doctor was unsure whether the metal scattered through my leg and rump would set off the metal detector at the airport. As the Great Samoan Hunter and I stood in line next to business men and families in the security line, I sweat bullets (I can say that with truth now) for fear that my arse would start beeping. Imagine explaining that to the TSA agent? Well, sir . . . </div>
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I preemptively wore my most modest, full coverage big girl panties in the event that I had to pull my drawers down to show the proof. Thankfully, no alarms beeped, and I scooted right through sans a second glance. </div>
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I promise to post more photos of our ten days in paradise, but until then, this was the view from our fale (beach bungalow):</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvcgERBnw4PkX7_oOiM0JZkCL_DI5GBu_uWwjzFbPwtwq8Sk8j2vwI23NicXgKD8aXzlr3lkh-LpNtX6aDH7FGe-iL6MIAwUVBD6tulOzBnlarhqPVyyAvUwGeGvkVdjvZUiOJcfavprc/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvcgERBnw4PkX7_oOiM0JZkCL_DI5GBu_uWwjzFbPwtwq8Sk8j2vwI23NicXgKD8aXzlr3lkh-LpNtX6aDH7FGe-iL6MIAwUVBD6tulOzBnlarhqPVyyAvUwGeGvkVdjvZUiOJcfavprc/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvcgERBnw4PkX7_oOiM0JZkCL_DI5GBu_uWwjzFbPwtwq8Sk8j2vwI23NicXgKD8aXzlr3lkh-LpNtX6aDH7FGe-iL6MIAwUVBD6tulOzBnlarhqPVyyAvUwGeGvkVdjvZUiOJcfavprc/s1600/IMG_5770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvcgERBnw4PkX7_oOiM0JZkCL_DI5GBu_uWwjzFbPwtwq8Sk8j2vwI23NicXgKD8aXzlr3lkh-LpNtX6aDH7FGe-iL6MIAwUVBD6tulOzBnlarhqPVyyAvUwGeGvkVdjvZUiOJcfavprc/s320/IMG_5770.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As the world woke up today and collectively said "TGIF!," I am preparing for my Monday. Yesterday I spent most of my day in town running errands and the mandatory grocery trip. We live forty-five minutes from the nearest grocery store so I have become a master at pantry meals. I keep a constant stock of canned beans, various shapes and sizes of pastas, and frozen veggies on hand for the inevitable empty fridge. The following dish was one such meal. I was down to my last wrinkled tomato. </div>
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This meatless meal came together in the time it took the water to boil. I served this easy dish with a healthy side of cottage cheese -- my pre-lactose-sensitive belly has transformed into a dairy-eating machine. This baby loves her some dairy. You could easily manipulate this to suit your family's tastes, add meat, add other veggies, change the pasta shape. The leftovers are great the next morning too scrambled in eggs. That may be a strange pregnancy thing though. Happy Friday (or Monday) all! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2iJpeQBiR5KNU6l7hjOLB5a6-aq77PcRBP14T4XbI0e2hXsJuxKbNUpM59LXoAvpJSWc2gbhvtxxirpx2WxqSP8fZyzOPAkZqPB1XMGNH7-O5uoRo7F4Ku9vsKO-Bzp4qy7SOgkwwWpS/s1600/52909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2iJpeQBiR5KNU6l7hjOLB5a6-aq77PcRBP14T4XbI0e2hXsJuxKbNUpM59LXoAvpJSWc2gbhvtxxirpx2WxqSP8fZyzOPAkZqPB1XMGNH7-O5uoRo7F4Ku9vsKO-Bzp4qy7SOgkwwWpS/s320/52909.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Low sodium beans. Swelling is such a fabulous pregnancy side effect.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NY6FBf_iPSx9xHRSWDlBVs12HPSPFHqmnA5WLET4efuwv5KqW62_tKaewbYgTRUMc2w42Agvr6ZQyb3NA_pWUbPzWvnkUyLDDn6vc8XBW8bx3Fwe2LR9Kj3WZGGQmonNbACBK0xfck_d/s1600/27401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NY6FBf_iPSx9xHRSWDlBVs12HPSPFHqmnA5WLET4efuwv5KqW62_tKaewbYgTRUMc2w42Agvr6ZQyb3NA_pWUbPzWvnkUyLDDn6vc8XBW8bx3Fwe2LR9Kj3WZGGQmonNbACBK0xfck_d/s320/27401.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Saute one sliced shallot and garlic clove, chili flakes as well as a handful of halved tomatoes in olive oil.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r0ox4vQQFpBnOz-gQWFU9Br9zxk2VXJ9MD0BoWQQEHs4PBdZ1utfyc9pjT5iRyy1PIFekQ-v_UEhGsR-uGrRfdFHpDSq7maLHsmd3vWL873wnRf-Vn3EykXgkS2tz0-a5yc8L5Hnog3m/s1600/81251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4r0ox4vQQFpBnOz-gQWFU9Br9zxk2VXJ9MD0BoWQQEHs4PBdZ1utfyc9pjT5iRyy1PIFekQ-v_UEhGsR-uGrRfdFHpDSq7maLHsmd3vWL873wnRf-Vn3EykXgkS2tz0-a5yc8L5Hnog3m/s320/81251.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Add the drained and rinsed beans (any type will work).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cIudkHv0c4WIsUJ7OqbQs0KsIDPTQEkbatAX35TxyVdtBkwIa5-HTdfUPMmgRdPgIZ5NZRfO1DHQMV0cHjk3amSZXjr7gqseLt2lMYQGgp2mZaxv79R0awG9NH_JBIbekK3TS1laYCTv/s1600/24329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cIudkHv0c4WIsUJ7OqbQs0KsIDPTQEkbatAX35TxyVdtBkwIa5-HTdfUPMmgRdPgIZ5NZRfO1DHQMV0cHjk3amSZXjr7gqseLt2lMYQGgp2mZaxv79R0awG9NH_JBIbekK3TS1laYCTv/s320/24329.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Reserve about 1/2 cup of the pasta water and toss everything together.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8XVdaTJT5GCJWDHm-QA8DPZb4uSP19X5HNUmoLHqy2yI6lEMxNu__8pZqWOcRfXA9iXmT177W9Lv-6nntNtyZnIxoZaLYNaCuMsr28lh0CR0VoMFo8p6ZP84Jr_L-Vfhy9_hgd6aAmMI/s1600/77803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8XVdaTJT5GCJWDHm-QA8DPZb4uSP19X5HNUmoLHqy2yI6lEMxNu__8pZqWOcRfXA9iXmT177W9Lv-6nntNtyZnIxoZaLYNaCuMsr28lh0CR0VoMFo8p6ZP84Jr_L-Vfhy9_hgd6aAmMI/s320/77803.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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My poor garden got nuked by a late freeze. It is slowly coming back. </div>
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I threw in some chopped parsley and basil.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34vj2Km-wA1LDJ5fvjBnXHRn0TdwvG8GAyzTYxCAGH_9kOXAusTerEtYMSkMiOHIjRdPKjkip737kVXY885YWulLFXBURrquz5FVW7w87LLIDBmIqHY7Ny1ikmGnUuQ8YjNNS5lrg8NBg/s1600/IMG_6578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34vj2Km-wA1LDJ5fvjBnXHRn0TdwvG8GAyzTYxCAGH_9kOXAusTerEtYMSkMiOHIjRdPKjkip737kVXY885YWulLFXBURrquz5FVW7w87LLIDBmIqHY7Ny1ikmGnUuQ8YjNNS5lrg8NBg/s320/IMG_6578.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Still a little rusty on the photos. Tasted great though!</div>
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<b>Quick and easy pasta with beans</b></div>
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2 can beans (any type), drained and rinsed</div>
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1 box small, bite-sized pasta</div>
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1 large shallot, sliced</div>
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1 garlic clove, minced</div>
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handful cherry tomatoes, sliced in half</div>
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1 tsp red chili flakes (more or less)</div>
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1 tsp olive oil</div>
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salt and pepper to taste</div>
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fresh herbs and parmesan cheese for garnish</div>
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Cook pasta according to directions. Meanwhile, heat olive oil over medium heat. Saute shallot, garlic and chili flakes until fragrant. Add the tomatoes to the pan and smoosh them a bit to release their juices. Save about a 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking liquid. Add the drain beans and pasta to the pan along with the pasta water. Saute to combine. Serve with parmesan cheese and herbs, as well as a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Enjoy!</div>
<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-39232318975607943212013-07-10T19:38:00.000-06:002013-07-10T19:39:27.994-06:00Keep reading . . . your eyes are not playing tricks on youI know what you are thinking. Where have you been Hail's Kitchen? I've done this before -- disappeared and then returned stronger, sassier, and much better behind the camera. I plan to do the same this time. Last time I faded into the dark and empty internet vastness I couldn't afford satellite internet service.<br />
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This time around things were a bit more complicated:<br />
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1. You can call me Master Hailey:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCLisOqJEHtzvqwCoc1l7hL4YTqBXkBpvlsOKIzngKXXppiqet6IGP5e6V5MGXU9ciTKprj4JaHrQOnAxBz9Tr4QdiIQs4GzXr85g7JThZdDkLddQ8pnQablZiixUsJjC6Brk1v1TTlvL/s1600/graduation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCLisOqJEHtzvqwCoc1l7hL4YTqBXkBpvlsOKIzngKXXppiqet6IGP5e6V5MGXU9ciTKprj4JaHrQOnAxBz9Tr4QdiIQs4GzXr85g7JThZdDkLddQ8pnQablZiixUsJjC6Brk1v1TTlvL/s320/graduation.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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2. I got a new job. This job resembles running a dairy. It never sleeps. As a result, my kitchen is like a lot of the friends and family I haven't seen since I began managing the F and B operations at the Lodge -- missed terribly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaphsfPjOkqceIa5qz_-N88Iu2jY9FNSzPGqNBh6sSiU7EdSpiEJQJs8zipx1RVhpiOhyQMrNgHuiErR-J4vnocv3DeMjh0LRTv0-usDDWeHlb3bGg_kg4IPCdFjavHxefNkPl-ylfkqt_/s1600/hen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaphsfPjOkqceIa5qz_-N88Iu2jY9FNSzPGqNBh6sSiU7EdSpiEJQJs8zipx1RVhpiOhyQMrNgHuiErR-J4vnocv3DeMjh0LRTv0-usDDWeHlb3bGg_kg4IPCdFjavHxefNkPl-ylfkqt_/s320/hen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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3. I got married. Our four month engagement didn't allow for much free time, especially considering the 60 hours a week I spend at work. I am officially Mrs. Great Samoan Hunter. Nice ring, eh?<br />
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4. I got shot. By my husband of two weeks. In the ass. Yes, you read that correctly. Again, no tricks on the eyes. Amazingly, I walked out of the hospital that night. I have quite the scar and story to share with our grandkids someday. The Great Samoan Hunter (oh the irony) will have the rest of our lives to make up for that one.<br />
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5. We moved. Twice. In and out of the river mansion. We're nearly settled into our new abode. A messy garage is mark of genius, right?<br />
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6. Last but certainly not least, I got pregnant. Baby Great Samoan Hunter will be making <i>her</i> arrival somewhere near the end of October. Quite serendipitously she will join us just as our season wraps up. Beyond words how thrilled we are (the Judge has been shopping for swing sets since February). <br />
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It's been an eventful year. Sadly, I also lost one of my biggest fans and most loyal readers in May to the blasted and most hated c-word. I like to think that when Grandma Joyce is not keeping a loving and watchful eye on us here on Earth, she's eating ice cream and cracking jokes with God. I sure miss her laugh.<br />
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I do have a fantastic new kitchen that has wonderful light and plenty of counter space to pose food photos. I also have a ravenous appetite and a renewed zest for writing. Must be the hormones. <br />
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If you're reading this now, you know the potential that is to come from Hail's Kitchen. Stronger, sassier, an extra hole in my butt, a baby in belly, and an MA behind my name. Yes Internet, Hail's Kitchen is back. xoH<br />
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<br />hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-9763564277237051242012-03-17T11:05:00.003-06:002012-03-17T11:17:42.519-06:00SparkleLast week I spent recharging my battery with Grandma Joyce. The intent of my visit was to be at her every beck and call, help her recharge her battery. I cooked pasta two nights in a row just because she loves pasta. I made one of her all time favorite dishes -- stew -- to praises. I <em>baked</em> scones. Successfully. Cooking for the woman who is largely responsible for my culinary skill was not so much intimidating. Simply, I wanted to make her proud. I kept picking her brains for her trade secrets -- how much of this, how long for that. After eating my eggplant parmesan, which the recipe is entirely different from hers and my mom's, she gave me the best food compliment I have ever received. She said my food sparkles.<br />
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You know what internet, my Grandma Joyce sparkles.<br />
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I have been incredibly lucky to be raised by two women, my mom and my grandma. She's nearly eighty-six years old and is the sharpest, wittiest and hippest women I have had the pleasure of hanging around (and I have her genes). I am lucky to have two moms. Yesterday, Grandma received less than stellar news. There is an asshole strain of cancer growing inside of her. Yes, a shitty, mean, uninvited asshole.<br />
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I am collecting every ounce of positive, hopeful, loving energy and sending it her way. If you are reading this, send some love and light her way, because she has lots of sparkling left to do. <br />
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One of our sparkly breakfasts.</div>
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Another, blueberry scones.</div>
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I will make those scones again this week for guide school here at the Lodge. The Great Samoan Hunter asked if I would play chef for the next seven days since his real chef doesn't start until April 1. Here's to hoping these guides think my food sparkles, as well.</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-38795929343310281572012-03-06T12:01:00.001-07:002012-03-06T12:03:17.668-07:00One pot wonderIt's official, I want cows. I want to be a cattle rancher or ranchette -- whatever the correct term. On another quest for lodge photos for the Great Samoan Hunter, I got to tag along on a real Idaho adventure: feeding the cows at the ranch across the street. Our friend Collin drove up from Utah to work his magic. He is an amazing photographer and when I grow up I want to take pictures just like he does. Check out his <a href="http://finpusher.com/">site</a>. He's pretty much a bad ass.<br />
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We got to ride along on the tractor and even tried our hand at feeding, which turned into a race/competition. I dusted the Great Samoan Hunter with my skills. I think I've got ranchette potential! Every time I drive to the river mansion I pass this cheery ranch. Now that these cows are my friends I won't just drive aimlessly by. I'll wave.<br />
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Meta photography: photo of the photographer.</div>
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Mom Kate driving the tractor.</div>
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If son Brody's future as a rancher doesn't pan out I think he could have a career as a male model. Excellent blue steel.</div>
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Dad Jared was dressed to the nines.</div>
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I have swapped my ranchette hat for nurse/personal assistant/chef/entertainer/maid hats as I am caring for a certain Grandma Joyce. She's recovering from surgery and fortunately my schedule is less than occupied these days. I have been force feeding her all sorts of good food so hopefully she won't have gained five pounds by her followup appointment. The weather here was 64 degrees yesterday so I set up the chairs on her deck, and we soaked up some vitamin D. Sadly we woke up to snow on the chairs this morning so no sunbathing. </div>
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She's so hip on her ipad.</div>
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I made pork carnitas this weekend when Collin visited, and they were so delicious I made them again last night for Grandma. As Collin said, "they don't suck." Try these carnitas. They're so good you'll want to make them three days later. <br />
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Cubed pork.</div>
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The aromatic goodness.</div>
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This meal truly is a one pot wonder. </div>
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The world's best pico de gallo (promise!): dice four tomatoes with most of the pulp removed, mince three green onions, dice one avocado, dice one jalapeno, dice half of one cucumber (this is what makes this salsa the BEST), juice of one juice lime, if not two, a glug of olive oil, season to taste with salt and pepper. Resist eating the whole bowl yourself. With a spoon. I dare you.</div>
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I served the carnitas in a tortilla with yellow rice and beans. Delicious!</div>
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<strong>Pork carnitas</strong></div>
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adapted from epicurious</div>
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3 pounds pork shoulder, cut into cubes</div>
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1 large onion, sliced</div>
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1 orange, cut into quarters</div>
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8 cloves garlic, peeled and left whole</div>
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3 bay leaves</div>
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2 tbs oregano</div>
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2 tbs coarse salt</div>
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1/4 cup olive oil</div>
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1 tbs honey</div>
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1 tbs milk</div>
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3 cups water</div>
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Combine all ingredients in a large dutch oven or ovensafe pot. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer. Cook for about 2 hours over low - medium heat (you want a low rumble), stirring occasionally until <strong>all</strong> of the liquid evaporates. Preheat your oven to 450. 'Fry' in the oven for 30 minutes, no need to cover or stir. Remove from the pan and chop roughtly. Serve in tortillas and enjoy!</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-25782068462746603542012-03-02T11:14:00.001-07:002012-03-02T11:16:57.904-07:00Bacon buttHow is it already March 2? Where did January go, less February? Last time I went into town (I love saying that), the stores were marketing Easter. I feel like time is going faster -- Earth's revolutions have sped up. Before we know it, you all will be addressing me as Master Hailey.<br />
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This winter I have been obsessed with one mode of cooking: braising. I have braised chicken thighs, turkey thighs, elk roasts, pork roasts, pretty much anything I get my hands on end up in the oven in some sort of liquid. Recently the Great Samoan Hunter teased me about my fixation. Let me guess, he said, you braised dinner. Maybe, well, yes.<br />
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Something else I have been obsessing about this winter is the notion of homesteading. Living on the river has changed the way I cook, as well as the way I grocery shop. Since I can't easily zip down to the store to pick up an ingredient -- the closest store is 45 minutes away on dry roads -- I have had to utilize forethought and creativity. I am <em>that</em> woman in the grocery line whose cart looks like she's preparing for doom's day. <br />
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Before this winter, I will fully admit to being a food waster. I threw so much stuff away! Now before that knee jerk reaction takes hold of me, I reevaluate the item. For example, we had loads of leftover fruit from my mom's party. Knowing that the two of us could never consume all of it, I made freezer jam. I was and still am so proud of myself. We have kiwi/blackberry and mixed berry jams waiting to be lovingly spread on toast!<br />
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Yesterday in an attempt to break out of my braising rut and to use some Christmas leftovers in the freezer, I made ham and potato soup with BLTs. While the soup was good, the sandwiches were great. I had forgotten how delicious and simple BLTs are. I added sliced avocado and used arugula instead of lettuce. <br />
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Last night's dinner may inspire a new obsession: BLTs. Oh man. Next time I go to town, you might not recognize me. Bacon butt. <br />
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I snuck in a parsnip.</div>
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Christmas ham in March tastes just as delicious as it did in December.</div>
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Sauteed goodness.</div>
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Diced reds.</div>
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This is a great combination of dill, chives, basil, tarragon, chervil and white pepper. You could easily make your own.</div>
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Bay leaf.</div>
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Simple and delcious.</div>
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The star of the meal.</div>
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<strong>Ham and potato soup</strong></div>
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2 cups cooked ham, diced</div>
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1 large yellow onion, diced</div>
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5 medium red potatoes, diced</div>
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2 carrots, diced</div>
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2 celery ribs, diced</div>
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1 parsnip, diced</div>
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3 cloves garlic, minced</div>
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4-5 cups chicken broth</div>
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1 bay leaf</div>
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1 tbs parisian herb mix -- or combination of similar herbs</div>
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salt and pepper</div>
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olive oil</div>
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In a large stock pot, heat 1 tbs olive. Add the ham and saute for about 2 minutes. Add the onion, carrots, celery, and parsnip to the pan. Season with 1/2 tsp salt and pepper. Saute for about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, potatoes and spice mix, cook another 2 -3 minutes. Pour in the chicken broth and season with another 1/2 tsp of pepper, as well as add the bay leaf. Simmer soup for at least 45 minutes or longer. I cooked mine for about 2 hours. About ten minutes before you are ready to eat, smash up the potatoes with a spoon -- or remove one cup and zip up it in a blender. The potato starches will thicken the soup without having to add cream. Simmer for a few more minutes, season to taste and serve. Enjoy!</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-65464093045787294182012-02-26T19:30:00.001-07:002012-02-26T19:30:13.596-07:00"Best meal you've ever made"Paper completion update: revised and edited in its entirety and turned into my advisor. One step closer to my new title: Master Hailey. My friend Dana graduated last spring, and she coined this title. Master Dana, I am almost your friend Master Hailey.<br />
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Now that I have a little extra free time on my hands, I am doing a little multitasking tonight: knitting, writing a grant, watching the Academy Awards and blogging. Not sure I will do any all that well, but at least I am not working on my paper.<br />
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I just have to say, Billy Crystal is the man. <br />
<br />Since the Great Samoan Hunter and I started hanging out, I've heard his professed love for one particular meal again and again. No, not spam. However, he does love corned beef nearly as much as he loves the following dish, <em>osso bucco</em>.<br />
<br />I've attempted to make this rustic, hearty meal before but to no avail, as it requires the <em>shank</em>. In one particular attempt to wow him with my memory and culinary prowess, I tried to track down said cut of meat. I visited every single store, meat market and butcher in my little town. Each butcher looked at me like I had asked for pig's head. You would think this cut of meat would be more available. Well, it's not.<br />
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If and when you find the holy grail of meat, make this dish. People, it's lovely. The Great Samoan Hunter actually told me this was the best meal I have ever made him, and I have been attempting to make his toes curl with my food for almost two years now. <br />
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Now that I am salivating thinking about osso bucco, I am going to return to my boxed mac and cheese. I throw one heck of an Oscar party!<br />
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I set off to purchase steak for Valentine's dinner and found lamb shanks.</div>
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No comparison.</div>
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Seasoned with salt and pepper and browned on all sides.</div>
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One red onion, three carrots, three celery ribs and three cloves garlic chopped.</div>
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Remove the shanks and set aside. Season the veggies with about 1/2 tsp salt and pepper and saute the veggies for at least ten minutes.</div>
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Return the shanks to the pan along with one 28 oz can of whole tomatoes and half of a bottle of a BIG red wine. Be sure to scrape up all of the goodness off the bottom of the pan.</div>
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Bring pan up to boil and simmer for about 2-3 minutes. Add a handful of fresh thyme.</div>
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Pop the lid on and place the whole thing in a low and slow oven.</div>
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280 degrees for at least 3.5 hours.</div>
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When your timer goes off, remove the shanks and simmer the sauce until it is reduced by half. Season the sauce to taste with salt papper.</div>
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Return the shanks to the pan and cover with all that goodness.</div>
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I served my osso bucco over creamy, cheesy polenta with a gremolata of garlic, lemon and parsley, as well as roasted asparagus.</div>
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Not too shabby.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwA9l4bx6g3NAUGS02vJAFL_nAw5uqe-_JAa5X_fqlfRq-d1OuvOOybIGais3xcoCVGLn3JJ6WMWqze_Kdl5cz0jfWvxIH1CbmvYzbTUehgBSHmxvcPOagPD6EuFwcUZ5pQecpX97IB-O/s1600/257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwA9l4bx6g3NAUGS02vJAFL_nAw5uqe-_JAa5X_fqlfRq-d1OuvOOybIGais3xcoCVGLn3JJ6WMWqze_Kdl5cz0jfWvxIH1CbmvYzbTUehgBSHmxvcPOagPD6EuFwcUZ5pQecpX97IB-O/s400/257.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Need to impress someone? Make this dinner.</div>
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Don't forget the gremolata.</div>
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The Basil Hayden helps, too.</div>
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Happy Valentine's Day my Samoan Hunter. xoH</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-65819909197637448082012-02-24T14:12:00.000-07:002012-02-25T08:09:09.026-07:00Naughty little party planning elfHappy Friday! I just threw a mini temper tantrum because I am posted up inside, table spread with books and other thesis materials. I promptly gave myself a good scolding for being such a pouty baby. I have had ample opportunities to play in the sunshine. I pulled on my big girl panties and buckled in. I can't move from this chair until I finish two more chapters today. Two are lovely and polished and ready for my advisor's eagle eye. <br />
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My brain needed a brief hiatus from the cult of domesticity, and because of my self imposed chair-arrest, here I am. Blogging. </div>
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I have been keeping a secret from you all for months. This secret plagued me on a daily basis. I so desperately wanted to share it here, as I have been scheming like a naughty little party planning elf.</div>
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Behold the secret that I have blamed as the reason I have not been working on my paper:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFhhRh9J00jNZcGC1sde_k6zN9lBUBUqSODfj2ZU0-v9tn2LZQitGkDqMZBnIqFi0d8A3Jfl2s00opw_15Q0gOaO2mhzz9BaG24OzQj7tjQmoYiFh5undBvpsIMUE4rrRWpbkW3hx9v9X/s1600/TipsyBirthdayThisKid_Hodges3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFhhRh9J00jNZcGC1sde_k6zN9lBUBUqSODfj2ZU0-v9tn2LZQitGkDqMZBnIqFi0d8A3Jfl2s00opw_15Q0gOaO2mhzz9BaG24OzQj7tjQmoYiFh5undBvpsIMUE4rrRWpbkW3hx9v9X/s400/TipsyBirthdayThisKid_Hodges3.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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This plan was hatched while visiting Heather in Saipan. I volunteered to take on the brunt of the planning since Heather lives in the middle of the ocean and Julia has a full time, grownup job. While most of the planning was a breeze, the hard part came the weekend of the party: <em>appetizers for 100 people</em>. </div>
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I made lists, an excel spreadsheet, notes on napkins, last minute grocery trips on the backs of envelopes. I coordinated with the precision of a surgeon. I must have stressed myself out (translation looked old and worn out), because while my twenty-four year old sister Julia and our lovely grandmother rehydrated and refueled at the Costco food court, a man older than my parents asked ME how old my daughter was. Julia. My sister. I have since been on the quest for anti-aging products. Please email me with any suggestions.</div>
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Regardless of the most flattering comment I have ever received, we rocked the food out. I tortured those I love by forcing them to be my sous chefs. Thankfully we were allowed to take over this fabulous, industrial kitchen. Someday I want one just like it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzRwVhERsdZbRfpVgwVFST13iXJuSk78e9_g2P2baf-8kpCh_U-OdwDGvmvWkLST40LLTjaMe5R2V8tbGnCvKc2h3Ao-jXWPr7BY0sc7VXSNx2-ooNqHGYlGX-ryOhB0XgmpWJQydzmnG/s1600/045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzRwVhERsdZbRfpVgwVFST13iXJuSk78e9_g2P2baf-8kpCh_U-OdwDGvmvWkLST40LLTjaMe5R2V8tbGnCvKc2h3Ao-jXWPr7BY0sc7VXSNx2-ooNqHGYlGX-ryOhB0XgmpWJQydzmnG/s400/045.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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See that hotty. That's my daughter.</div>
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As for the menu, I chose all things my mom loves: caprese sticks, smoked salmon, dates stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped with bacon, stuffed mushrooms, prosciutto wrapped asparagus, among other delectable nibbles. Everything we made, less the Costco meatballs, was made from scratch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDim7g7LBSXDE0jgVq8zo1MEm4EcD6PidWgu48nOi63Afb0W1iN8_aZFzLguCqXkFj1NQMdqn3XJEbmoanGzQ0b9TpBgARCDeKs_V6HrTNNggRvJpTCXyvzMn1ceh5QL0hZWuvg_sgzm1/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDim7g7LBSXDE0jgVq8zo1MEm4EcD6PidWgu48nOi63Afb0W1iN8_aZFzLguCqXkFj1NQMdqn3XJEbmoanGzQ0b9TpBgARCDeKs_V6HrTNNggRvJpTCXyvzMn1ceh5QL0hZWuvg_sgzm1/s400/063.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Smoked salmon pate: 8 oz smoked salmon, 8 oz cream cheese, 1 chopped shallot,</div>
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2 tbs chopped fresh dill and chives, juice and zest of 1 lemon, salt and pepper.</div>
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Mash up the salmon, cream cheese and shallots with a fork, season with the herbs and lemon. Place in a cute little bowl and refrigerate overnight. </div>
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Serve with crackers or toast points. </div>
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Yum.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWDHzD83BX3U88Tu6iDME1tpWVVy30PYB0oSn8bKr9LleHGttPxiXcoO9eOv754A6fNuqDgTPIzNLUomloUvHZyor6WEs35a2emECLfsoj5_Y8Xwa7Ezm0NKc9wqLpH5KemEfEYJ7igtT/s1600/064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWDHzD83BX3U88Tu6iDME1tpWVVy30PYB0oSn8bKr9LleHGttPxiXcoO9eOv754A6fNuqDgTPIzNLUomloUvHZyor6WEs35a2emECLfsoj5_Y8Xwa7Ezm0NKc9wqLpH5KemEfEYJ7igtT/s400/064.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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These are the Great Samoan Hunter's mushrooms:</div>
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combine cooked sausage and cream cheese.</div>
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Spread mixture into mushroom caps.</div>
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Bake in 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes or until golden and bubbly.</div>
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Super yum.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmzuNAdM381C6RwZRTod5c67J_Ne4KpG0dnmczKDPAN0bQxsg39e4w6OnMi2s-hluvwwJ92BY5hGUWleru4jygOCzKyY35DyagDy4RTkeFoensIWzlaDXZ64_SovkZUgGFQRqcqvzFMlx/s1600/068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmzuNAdM381C6RwZRTod5c67J_Ne4KpG0dnmczKDPAN0bQxsg39e4w6OnMi2s-hluvwwJ92BY5hGUWleru4jygOCzKyY35DyagDy4RTkeFoensIWzlaDXZ64_SovkZUgGFQRqcqvzFMlx/s400/068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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These are the stuffed dates. Remove the seed, stuff with blue cheese and wrap with bacon. Bake in 350 degree oven for about 20 minutes until <em>golden and bubbly. </em>These were devoured before I had a chance to try them.</div>
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However, I heard they were SUPER DUPER YUM.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiOLgPx3otzOrZa8ynO5OHi0hb8VLPf-AdYJqi7R0JE7Som_781DwW31fJJ5gF79kDbv6IYz8_Z2SyzyRGqiMWnbUs9zo17S4XC2dmNpmpmUliYtGLb0REXYneCWgtNgR3OAm3QHPruad/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiOLgPx3otzOrZa8ynO5OHi0hb8VLPf-AdYJqi7R0JE7Som_781DwW31fJJ5gF79kDbv6IYz8_Z2SyzyRGqiMWnbUs9zo17S4XC2dmNpmpmUliYtGLb0REXYneCWgtNgR3OAm3QHPruad/s400/054.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Caprese sticks with basil, mozzerella and tomatoes.</div>
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I made these extra special by making a balsamic drizzle with 1/4 cup sugar and 1/4 balsamic oil reduced down to a syrup. I burned the heck out my finger on this stuff so be careful when tasting!</div>
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I unfortunately was so wrapped up in the details that I failed to take enough photos of the actual party. All told, it was a raving success. My mom was surprised, she cried happy tears through most of the party. We received great feedback on all the food, which was devoured. Thanks to loads of helpers, we pulled it off! Love you mom! xoxo</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-2_bItmiUscYwJowkoJvoXewQEbdoEwQlwwzsIMATkQCq__aDv9twiC5TLrIz4RqxTHn_HssnLkqHIYiKO2HVhiX-eY4Y2wWl7dNSg80ULCz-bLNunn_CfOqWXsKKkIVpam7Swo_haDd/s1600/080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-2_bItmiUscYwJowkoJvoXewQEbdoEwQlwwzsIMATkQCq__aDv9twiC5TLrIz4RqxTHn_HssnLkqHIYiKO2HVhiX-eY4Y2wWl7dNSg80ULCz-bLNunn_CfOqWXsKKkIVpam7Swo_haDd/s400/080.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Potato and blue cheese tart before it landed on the buffet table.</div>
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Stuffed dates before they evaporated into thin air.</div>
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While this photo is a bit blurry, it captures her surprise and the Judge's elation beautifully.</div>
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Checking out the wall of photos.</div>
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Okay, so who wants throw a party with me? I am ready to do it again! Next time, I will be sure to dose my self with anti-wrinkle agents to ensure I don't look stressed and aged. <br />
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Here I go . . . back to my paper. Here's a little ditty to tantalize you until next time: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzuGPlaaIMI8Q1BskI88RdD8sKahOEIejGTdC-q8y3dY_pCUXgGLLrOABl8vh9x2EYiCBmz_51xQNur6MojOaR6MDLj9vGmqDbNJEYvm-nxVob5bvQp3DX-vWsTaTb8BxtKaMQ8pdLCs/s1600/247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCzuGPlaaIMI8Q1BskI88RdD8sKahOEIejGTdC-q8y3dY_pCUXgGLLrOABl8vh9x2EYiCBmz_51xQNur6MojOaR6MDLj9vGmqDbNJEYvm-nxVob5bvQp3DX-vWsTaTb8BxtKaMQ8pdLCs/s320/247.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lamb osso bucco from our Valentine's dinner.</div>
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Where did we eat, you ask?</div>
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This place you might of heard of, Hail's Kitchen. It's pretty good.</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-45497443249027954542012-02-08T14:31:00.001-07:002012-02-08T14:46:11.335-07:00What's a girl to do?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This morning I completed a chore that I've been putting off for a few weeks. I shovelled the deck. More accurately stated, I chipped ice off of the deck. It was kind of like washing dirty dishes days after they should have been washed. Procrastination has a nasty sense of humor.</div>
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That said, I am still procrastinating the editing of my paper. I keep telling myself, tomorrow you will finish it. Then I get a phone call to go fishing. What's a girl to do? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_eGan3zreN9h1gVzOTuYBoa5NNiJx2xSVMhUCbtxqFG8BSbR-tWt8rCSznW9f9piKQ1yJ4T3HUSumQ9OvLY-uTLrP1xBtzb74aTyuONyXHmpUYbqgvou2Ft-Y5sQQotbMBb7J4R74J92F/s1600/104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_eGan3zreN9h1gVzOTuYBoa5NNiJx2xSVMhUCbtxqFG8BSbR-tWt8rCSznW9f9piKQ1yJ4T3HUSumQ9OvLY-uTLrP1xBtzb74aTyuONyXHmpUYbqgvou2Ft-Y5sQQotbMBb7J4R74J92F/s400/104.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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That's me on the left.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTtDmgNc3IJtvjSLPtxJufAZtw04d85HS2VbpIHn8AjeVehqFMsNHAX6pagLdc6D0MzPONwC_fcJdPYI62dhBGnYRkoekOmhHvEz0-x7y7EVtWrmL0_G6Pg9C-VqjOEJ-GZs4XPHhp-RB/s1600/192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTtDmgNc3IJtvjSLPtxJufAZtw04d85HS2VbpIHn8AjeVehqFMsNHAX6pagLdc6D0MzPONwC_fcJdPYI62dhBGnYRkoekOmhHvEz0-x7y7EVtWrmL0_G6Pg9C-VqjOEJ-GZs4XPHhp-RB/s400/192.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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The Great Samoan Hunter needed photos for the Lodge's fishing blog.</div>
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Who knew flying fish lived on the South Fork?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hutSH3LlFim6h4WdMLVjwzygB0hcqXeUtpH66OptIU-Zt_8DtxoX7ojt9ZY7HxOq5DUQdD_YCejJYZv65F06LinnfVVLhQB2HheLKKss1bVaW8BA3Cro_myRdb1eZtdMTSk-fEfgC8FR/s1600/180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hutSH3LlFim6h4WdMLVjwzygB0hcqXeUtpH66OptIU-Zt_8DtxoX7ojt9ZY7HxOq5DUQdD_YCejJYZv65F06LinnfVVLhQB2HheLKKss1bVaW8BA3Cro_myRdb1eZtdMTSk-fEfgC8FR/s400/180.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Growing up in Idaho, my dad instilled a healthy fear of wild animals in the hearts and minds of me and my two little sisters. However, the wild animals we were most afraid of were not the typical lions and tigers and bears one might associate with the wilds of Idaho. No, we were afraid of beavers and turkeys. Beavers carried beaver fever, a deadly disease no eight year old with buck teeth wished upon herself, and turkeys grew spikes -- enormous, thorny, angry spikes on the back of their legs that scratch little girls' eyes out. Not sure those were my dad's exact words, but to this day I am still leery of beavers and turkeys. </div>
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Yesterday I was just about to jump in the shower, and I noticed some movement outside of my bedroom window. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CYITC81RBMtEHaXBa1A5fXoHIotH-7zIAp5z0aQ-7I3d2DyEb7ED1rBSS-he3uP0hyxszPchnK4Edtf9sIkpcT7e1BZH80J5fwFuvQMnUDFnsF7odu0LZg22D_WQf7QwvrkoFlNvTMLy/s1600/230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CYITC81RBMtEHaXBa1A5fXoHIotH-7zIAp5z0aQ-7I3d2DyEb7ED1rBSS-he3uP0hyxszPchnK4Edtf9sIkpcT7e1BZH80J5fwFuvQMnUDFnsF7odu0LZg22D_WQf7QwvrkoFlNvTMLy/s400/230.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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15 man-eating, eyeball-scratching turkeys in my driveway.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB5mBuP_bg0B_1hchni_eEZaXPGrIwmlrKUe2IbOBK2-49RpaR7QffohdgH5ORPlhB5V7vpaYBT4fH3HEhcfQr-S2VxYCQqDiElKqtw_k8R-8cTf6Qff8CIrQLeZtwFKKp1iYVBtVKTxc/s1600/234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB5mBuP_bg0B_1hchni_eEZaXPGrIwmlrKUe2IbOBK2-49RpaR7QffohdgH5ORPlhB5V7vpaYBT4fH3HEhcfQr-S2VxYCQqDiElKqtw_k8R-8cTf6Qff8CIrQLeZtwFKKp1iYVBtVKTxc/s400/234.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Casting fear aside, I snuck outside to catch their photo.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_pRWhkkGXASJtmjgY2gZhhPTmyct0P7mivotspP-2doNzuZoBrm7g-o3ByS3b7oeMlplXtPP2vo2AAXzD2P7iR0A8_n1Tz3HP47DbdDsgZWVY6uWQMPNcx5X-Bc9fsgLNSwjuhyFJ59W/s1600/236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_pRWhkkGXASJtmjgY2gZhhPTmyct0P7mivotspP-2doNzuZoBrm7g-o3ByS3b7oeMlplXtPP2vo2AAXzD2P7iR0A8_n1Tz3HP47DbdDsgZWVY6uWQMPNcx5X-Bc9fsgLNSwjuhyFJ59W/s400/236.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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They ran away from me! That's right, bitches.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-0ptP_l_hZqgE61d6nB7LqbzGHEpO1PYqQybbcbC6V9DXS9troNzl-veCTWcuke3SU4THiFZaf3ER8eVTfGsxHRs7G6pIc1sX-Ubi3k8vNV6J4Npfq5XfADOZcxDaduxYjhMhQRN6Au1/s1600/240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-0ptP_l_hZqgE61d6nB7LqbzGHEpO1PYqQybbcbC6V9DXS9troNzl-veCTWcuke3SU4THiFZaf3ER8eVTfGsxHRs7G6pIc1sX-Ubi3k8vNV6J4Npfq5XfADOZcxDaduxYjhMhQRN6Au1/s400/240.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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My eyes lived to see another day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowWUe5jtm6dRvWsXyD4GuzTTaUMKFbxrDtwN_ob1auZh5zKD7ZSys8DXG4wWVeelflO7w0DCIRTGUjhLRRH_iNHHudfRl1avo1nq2IdXvuu_cGxt83QfVNwzuoSLmXbX4gpzu9v-98J93/s1600/246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowWUe5jtm6dRvWsXyD4GuzTTaUMKFbxrDtwN_ob1auZh5zKD7ZSys8DXG4wWVeelflO7w0DCIRTGUjhLRRH_iNHHudfRl1avo1nq2IdXvuu_cGxt83QfVNwzuoSLmXbX4gpzu9v-98J93/s400/246.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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So did the turkeys, as Tuli slept through the entire encounter.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4WlxTxcDbB4jN8qGgtPsk-9gXwVCLRBgCM_8Vy2b4tyWaKrVhTi9DGKd8Ut1xZ7EbIS82HTFB7hG_5mWniqNf8frBakkX76OVpWebvjR-nggrkBBSFI3Bi52ycHL5CZ33ghf-cR5InzH/s1600/196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4WlxTxcDbB4jN8qGgtPsk-9gXwVCLRBgCM_8Vy2b4tyWaKrVhTi9DGKd8Ut1xZ7EbIS82HTFB7hG_5mWniqNf8frBakkX76OVpWebvjR-nggrkBBSFI3Bi52ycHL5CZ33ghf-cR5InzH/s400/196.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Last night with the full moon, we decided to drive over the hill to Victor for a nighttime skate ski. Fortunately for me, we didn't see any turkeys or beavers. </div>
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Before we left, we threw together the fastest, easiest, yummiest meal. This is a great one for anyone who is busy and/or lazy. These days I fall into the latter category. You can piece this meal together with any veggies you have on hand. After our moonlit ski, it was a wonderful treat to come home to a warm meal.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO0jt9nRxpOmiGWHyEoa0iTMmBr5IY4t-OSgyxM1hFwJ2EvMehyphenhyphenHJHqfmS-oHQa5SVTp7ZNb4WPJ3hQJzjL_x7Z5azlLK2hVrmH01_cKmQuLO4erLG2ek0M4LTbfQUxagasL1pYLX7d1i/s1600/250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO0jt9nRxpOmiGWHyEoa0iTMmBr5IY4t-OSgyxM1hFwJ2EvMehyphenhyphenHJHqfmS-oHQa5SVTp7ZNb4WPJ3hQJzjL_x7Z5azlLK2hVrmH01_cKmQuLO4erLG2ek0M4LTbfQUxagasL1pYLX7d1i/s400/250.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Chicken thighs, potoatoes, asparagus, and tomatoes drizzed with olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper and thyme. Baked at 300 for 2 hours (less time would have been fine, but that was our roundtrip).</div>
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Tender, flavorful chicken and veggies.</div>
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I have one more super easy, translation lazy, meal for you today. Somehow all this talk of procrasting has enduced some bizarre blogging efficiency. Here's a fast, simple, delicious pasta that I made for lunch today. The sauce comes together in the time it takes to cook the noodles. In order to use the Great Samoan Hunter's internet, I bribed him with lunch.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcgtbGKjtXUJizbZmN2jCywq6MGRu1WlVJu-fNcuuBlDTKw_ibSHsD5i6SYq52t3VfRyHyr2YFeLaGPK9AWFBf7tkPxbdO22AIwZIcZ6pmhHIChKQlaczH7YhCFZPovdL9avZB722oF9qv/s1600/271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcgtbGKjtXUJizbZmN2jCywq6MGRu1WlVJu-fNcuuBlDTKw_ibSHsD5i6SYq52t3VfRyHyr2YFeLaGPK9AWFBf7tkPxbdO22AIwZIcZ6pmhHIChKQlaczH7YhCFZPovdL9avZB722oF9qv/s400/271.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Any shape pasta you like cooked according to the directions, one diced onion, one can green chiles, one small can whole tomatoes, and not pictured oregano, cumin, a handful of cilantro and some feta cheese.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQWDag1_QwyZY8Xnld8orznxyoVN0lzb9ceAhHAmoFH9TRm1XTmGlD3UWXaSh6X0lT2FvvY3uzR4UGhVGDRuPw2CGLzlbCh8xWv2Mz2PVNv2SjasDgENcKrAg6OwnifJz_MT1lJgGtV-J/s1600/275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQWDag1_QwyZY8Xnld8orznxyoVN0lzb9ceAhHAmoFH9TRm1XTmGlD3UWXaSh6X0lT2FvvY3uzR4UGhVGDRuPw2CGLzlbCh8xWv2Mz2PVNv2SjasDgENcKrAg6OwnifJz_MT1lJgGtV-J/s400/275.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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While you bring your salted pasta water to boil, saute the diced onion in a tbs of olive oil. Saute until translucent -- about 3-4 minutes. Add the chiles and tomatoes. As the tomatoes simmer, smoosh them with the back of a spoon. Season with 1/2 tsp each of oregano and cumin. Simmer the sauce while the noodles cook.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImn_1VKNBk6cp4x3AXTBJaYDMWpzDTiCeUJZ0hPd21Ljsme6T4ZQP5C05Pg66spX7FSeaEi7Z7WZv0cidfSyBeGY6CptsdBoNV2LkHwEA-pLyrIxqvzsRkt-5lusvw3YIuohIq8vkOrkv/s1600/273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImn_1VKNBk6cp4x3AXTBJaYDMWpzDTiCeUJZ0hPd21Ljsme6T4ZQP5C05Pg66spX7FSeaEi7Z7WZv0cidfSyBeGY6CptsdBoNV2LkHwEA-pLyrIxqvzsRkt-5lusvw3YIuohIq8vkOrkv/s400/273.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Chop a handful of cilantro.</div>
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Throw in the cilantro with a good amount of feta. Add the cooked pasta (and a little of the cooking water if your sauce is too thick).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3ZaW3l-bT1sBVONMPo3YUdqme3_tvrjtiUDpYtBvrJBAfO8GF0rp8EEDjZcp9SH4AOnDzXezqtDaLAbXaw55_PX4UcvrF0ErPsQygMLv8qZoi7YNToMGXAwc53C_i3Yy-LFzWKuX_klA/s1600/281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3ZaW3l-bT1sBVONMPo3YUdqme3_tvrjtiUDpYtBvrJBAfO8GF0rp8EEDjZcp9SH4AOnDzXezqtDaLAbXaw55_PX4UcvrF0ErPsQygMLv8qZoi7YNToMGXAwc53C_i3Yy-LFzWKuX_klA/s400/281.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Toss it all together and enjoy! </div>
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Even the meat-eating Samoan Hunter enjoyed this lunch.</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-91680105870570785252012-02-01T14:22:00.000-07:002012-02-01T14:35:24.777-07:00Getting my wiggles out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You know the saying, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. Well, the decision to postpone my defense, and thus the culmination of my MA, felt, at the time, like an enormous mouth full of lemons. I puckered, I shed some tears, my jaw clenched. It was sour. However, now that I've had time to process my choice, I am so glad I made the level-headed, adult decision (this was inspired largely from the encouragement of my wonderful advisor) to give myself some wiggle room.</div>
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So . . . I am wiggling. </div>
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You've noticed I have been cooking and writing again. I have been exercising. I have been reading books -- books for fun! I have been spending lots of time in the out of doors. I have not, however, been exerting enough effort or time towards my paper. Whenever I walk Tuli, I always tell him "get your wiggles out!" I figure that's what I am doing right now, getting my wiggles out. </div>
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As my advisor reminded me, I want to present a paper that I am proud of. This time and space has allowed me to get excited about my project again, as well as lots of other areas of my life that I neglected as a grouchy, stressed, <em>do it all but not all that well</em> graduate student. How do you like that lemonade?</div>
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The following recipe is the fruits of my labor. Literally. The Great Samoan Hunter and I hiked up and down and up and down four or five ridges in search of chukar. On our way back to the truck, we flushed an enormous covey of birds. The Great Samoan Hunter shot left, I shot right. I didn't see anything drop from my side. After missing several birds throughout the day, I was quite disappointed in myself. I didn't walk all that way to come home empty handed! Much to my delight, Tuli recovered my downed bird that had landed around the ledge upon which I was standing. Not only is he an upland game dog, but he is also a retriever! </div>
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I acted like someone who had just won the publisher's clearinghouse -- squealing, waving my arms, jumping up and down. I may have peed in my pants a little. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVNs_cjrgHoBp2BaEyJamnIqWnBR4DhiVtWugsxjnygWLZQ53dURMd0KgIYJ-XIflUPBk6E0SvnBJTBNC3md8WDStasUBsJy4hNDw5SCkSv2nwbUsD_crHTomMjDBZ4SQao4vOKm0d8uR/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVNs_cjrgHoBp2BaEyJamnIqWnBR4DhiVtWugsxjnygWLZQ53dURMd0KgIYJ-XIflUPBk6E0SvnBJTBNC3md8WDStasUBsJy4hNDw5SCkSv2nwbUsD_crHTomMjDBZ4SQao4vOKm0d8uR/s400/056.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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If I tell you where we are, I might have to kill you.</div>
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My face hurt from smiling so much.</div>
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My retriever.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplgrq79p9VRdaUFJ33NVgwBBzxs3XhEhrOMZdm77-Ea16jaSLs1QuRqe-f8p37EJv1-Nplnq4CS_farXzfBFcQJ2to2K6r-Pddkrk4Owk2sod5hGZF9DrRnWw86UOz88Y63Av-uBqLs3t/s1600/072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplgrq79p9VRdaUFJ33NVgwBBzxs3XhEhrOMZdm77-Ea16jaSLs1QuRqe-f8p37EJv1-Nplnq4CS_farXzfBFcQJ2to2K6r-Pddkrk4Owk2sod5hGZF9DrRnWw86UOz88Y63Av-uBqLs3t/s400/072.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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I can only take credit for one of these birds --</div>
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that's why I call him the GREAT Samoan Hunter.</div>
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I did find that deer shed in the background, though.</div>
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Chukar is very similar to pheasant, which tastes and looks much like chicken. I am nuts about both of these birds. Duck and geese, I am still working on. I decided to make chukar piccata -- lots of lemon, wine and capers. Had I served this dish to you blindly, you would have thought it was chicken. This dish blew me away. I had never made it before because I am not such a fan of capers, but I will be recirculating the dish for certain. Since chukar isn't an ingredient you can easily pick up at the grocery store, try the classic chicken piccata. Delicious!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPHCqBWSqCVineSYtu0gPSXchBXM5Vv5Zlg2UVBickjYEO0lLeJd0M0bWGGLxz8Vf8Xl8pJHLEAxM7_YSWb_xF7XtnsrUeLITrqY3PonHL3DB-9Ejd0etpfQOe7-N64H_mFYAP-QosnNR/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPHCqBWSqCVineSYtu0gPSXchBXM5Vv5Zlg2UVBickjYEO0lLeJd0M0bWGGLxz8Vf8Xl8pJHLEAxM7_YSWb_xF7XtnsrUeLITrqY3PonHL3DB-9Ejd0etpfQOe7-N64H_mFYAP-QosnNR/s400/002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Chukar breasts before I pounded them thin.</div>
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Familiar breading of flour, egg and panko with the addition of parmesan cheese.</div>
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Since I am trying to "eliminate muffin top," I baked instead of fried.</div>
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Sauce fixins.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjes4ieceT-TKABLGLcdeL526kw_xeNEzdMUEydbnoik1xC55UmoLnLQTNJfM2E77LuoaOK_cddyHEVrH7BR3uv1g-ctLW2rt0ZoYYsNLfm0KaeUnR_6k9gBo5Jy0Lm4vENjCd7sAd92ucp/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjes4ieceT-TKABLGLcdeL526kw_xeNEzdMUEydbnoik1xC55UmoLnLQTNJfM2E77LuoaOK_cddyHEVrH7BR3uv1g-ctLW2rt0ZoYYsNLfm0KaeUnR_6k9gBo5Jy0Lm4vENjCd7sAd92ucp/s400/020.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Capers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcf2R6jDm2V68WO_jfPWS0nTd7JwfZXslcqiT-gfP2Ft8Ojj0QmS6yM_fod4U46YEIzZMhh0cnhXQNdQOy1Dw7PU7jWh_abhqRgFX7YZjjiKR2z56Im90byDfpVr8T1Tr-G9cCarAOabJ/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcf2R6jDm2V68WO_jfPWS0nTd7JwfZXslcqiT-gfP2Ft8Ojj0QmS6yM_fod4U46YEIzZMhh0cnhXQNdQOy1Dw7PU7jWh_abhqRgFX7YZjjiKR2z56Im90byDfpVr8T1Tr-G9cCarAOabJ/s400/025.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Who would have thought wild game classed up so nicely?</div>
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Couldn't ask for a more perfect meal.</div>
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<strong>Chukar (or chicken) piccata</strong></div>
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4 breasts, pounded thin </div>
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2 tbs flour</div>
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1 egg, scrambled</div>
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1 cup panko breadcrumbs</div>
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1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (more for garnish)</div>
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1 or 2 lemons</div>
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1 handful Italian parsley, chopped</div>
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1/4 cup capers</div>
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1 shallot, diced</div>
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1 garlic clove, minced</div>
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1/2 cup dry white wine</div>
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salt and pepper</div>
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olive oil</div>
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2 tbs butter</div>
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pasta to serve</div>
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Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil, drizzle with a little olive oil, and set aside. Place breasts in a ziplock bag and pound thin. Dredge first in the seasoned flour (about 1 tsp each of salt and pepper) shaking off any excess, then the egg wash, and then panko cheese mixture. Once all of the breasts are breaded, allow them to rest for about ten minutes on the baking sheet to ensure an extra crispy crust. Bake the breasts for about 15 - 20 minutes.</div>
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Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to boil for the pasta. Cook according to the directions.</div>
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In a saucepan, heat about 1 tbs olive oil over medium-high heat. Saute the shallots and garlic until translucent. Add the wine, juice of one whole lemon (if it's not super juice add the second for good measure), as well as the squeezed lemons and capers. Reduce by half. Add the chopped parsley. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the 2 tbs butter. Remove the lemon halves and season to taste with salt and pepper.</div>
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Pour the sauce over the breasts. Serve with pasta and extra parmesan. Enjoy!</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4647910900283074608.post-23517756428180208072012-01-30T12:04:00.002-07:002012-01-30T12:04:36.990-07:00I like it a lot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Good Monday morning! I am writing this post from the river. The wireless in the river mansion is slower than slow so I am poaching internet from the Great Samoan Hunter's office. I am using one of the guide's desks, and I keep getting distracted by catalogues of shiny things like this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUk2K6UeCCzqrdodhjr3ZY-E_78XNjEtBy_5SwDg0uPcVXx-bA6FXNNHQiSsHVlhOlHh_uEhG8tU6D7gLz_4Vhyphenhyphen0-ixv86ZJFAqQ2guVhxzMT4nWrcae6OodUQ5wEkQx2KH_JMmT3tmyke/s1600/073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUk2K6UeCCzqrdodhjr3ZY-E_78XNjEtBy_5SwDg0uPcVXx-bA6FXNNHQiSsHVlhOlHh_uEhG8tU6D7gLz_4Vhyphenhyphen0-ixv86ZJFAqQ2guVhxzMT4nWrcae6OodUQ5wEkQx2KH_JMmT3tmyke/s400/073.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Lucky for me, that reel is mine. I received that shiny beauty for Christmas. For those of you who don't fish, receiving an upgrade in equipment improves ones cast (and badassness for having such a cool setup) enormously. I went from driving a Hyundai to driving a BMW. Faster. More accurate. Smoother. <em>Sexier</em>. I really like my new reel.</div>
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After watching a marathon of a show called <em>Alaska - The Last Frontier</em> on the Discovery Channel, we were inspired to seek a little adventure of our own. This show is about several families who live on a 600 acre homestead in Alaska. They hunt, fish, grown their own fruits and veggies, can, raise cattle, among other things required to survive in the Alaskan wilderness. We kept saying we could do that -- we could be homesteaders! Well, after our self-sustaining weekend, I am confident we could at least feed ourselves. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBidOdzYKC93JQ0uP9i96xUOKVZ353MNHR4mrFuEfDGoXWe4kh5ADjYg4PT0AduS5ARcJLkX42yhhrLx8xVO3iJGYQ7FUVYa7wBIHxVqGMpFqntrLnA9n_W7Q_-AUzNVkMtFuMBLmAzcd/s1600/179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBidOdzYKC93JQ0uP9i96xUOKVZ353MNHR4mrFuEfDGoXWe4kh5ADjYg4PT0AduS5ARcJLkX42yhhrLx8xVO3iJGYQ7FUVYa7wBIHxVqGMpFqntrLnA9n_W7Q_-AUzNVkMtFuMBLmAzcd/s400/179.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fishing not only puts food on the table, it's fun, too!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjpSJQTTr3VrBNPfGhhWd0Neygp0GL7OjKvvExneg-n0G7ZNiIivIiu5EdGLig_gP-NUl3LNJcLXGLHYpgaNt0nYPqxNgTJolMi2uRxeILgR9dYYckm6F-YjwvmzIuTdR9zeTulKp3wpkL/s1600/160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjpSJQTTr3VrBNPfGhhWd0Neygp0GL7OjKvvExneg-n0G7ZNiIivIiu5EdGLig_gP-NUl3LNJcLXGLHYpgaNt0nYPqxNgTJolMi2uRxeILgR9dYYckm6F-YjwvmzIuTdR9zeTulKp3wpkL/s400/160.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Pan-sized dinner.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdvIFXzSP4oWvaXCtSqjASNL6-Ers1lVyJhKqEbGyE7IHMWtOoo2SNufyT_Y6IyjmbhHI-1gJZWC2aILN4h3GuSJlctLEF1_lGoTK0EE65nmFG8L3CqMGl4uYDIK7PrH3pPHggvlDTuMi/s1600/184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdvIFXzSP4oWvaXCtSqjASNL6-Ers1lVyJhKqEbGyE7IHMWtOoo2SNufyT_Y6IyjmbhHI-1gJZWC2aILN4h3GuSJlctLEF1_lGoTK0EE65nmFG8L3CqMGl4uYDIK7PrH3pPHggvlDTuMi/s400/184.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Tuli won the best dressed award, again. Damn him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfmDUolBHqxBv2iu5QM57ny572zwZ1-0BtR3UOEUhKXQMFVnhG3Bh1VQ98IdAVs7c4KsOtNqTOm7bA7JrJFZpVIitGzg3UqhQfxon_bA6HZCcTbmwuPn4wdV28kmq-85L-QqGPq2mVHf7/s1600/260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfmDUolBHqxBv2iu5QM57ny572zwZ1-0BtR3UOEUhKXQMFVnhG3Bh1VQ98IdAVs7c4KsOtNqTOm7bA7JrJFZpVIitGzg3UqhQfxon_bA6HZCcTbmwuPn4wdV28kmq-85L-QqGPq2mVHf7/s400/260.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Lovely.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRngoUzMQz63JCZjj1Uc1QnPk5tLpLQP_Us_XGYpr1hnO0-lHdVyiZg6LwreLwXxmMrRS04N4S4ovl28bhwuTRKxTayykuzl2SKnkApQ2Ei25ZaqfPI0D-74fILkmoGs0N5CXV9gd1vOA/s1600/270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRngoUzMQz63JCZjj1Uc1QnPk5tLpLQP_Us_XGYpr1hnO0-lHdVyiZg6LwreLwXxmMrRS04N4S4ovl28bhwuTRKxTayykuzl2SKnkApQ2Ei25ZaqfPI0D-74fILkmoGs0N5CXV9gd1vOA/s400/270.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Dinner.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuYHF-Z76B2yypiLk1jxoDuwZm5tOL36U37PnX0B6ogd3AWZKUf3U_xO7NjbA6e7krb31zVhehlwJudf86XKHSa94hP1FV38rkMfWy3dqOmJs6FVk0CjoVHssXTktmgYdpRy2-LL_Ln5v/s1600/276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuYHF-Z76B2yypiLk1jxoDuwZm5tOL36U37PnX0B6ogd3AWZKUf3U_xO7NjbA6e7krb31zVhehlwJudf86XKHSa94hP1FV38rkMfWy3dqOmJs6FVk0CjoVHssXTktmgYdpRy2-LL_Ln5v/s400/276.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I had various herbs in the fridge so I made a tasty garlic herb butter:</div>
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1 clove minced garlic, zest from 1/2 a lemon, handful chopped parsley,</div>
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cilantro and thyme. Mix with half a stick of softened butter.</div>
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The smell is worth making this butter alone -- would be fabulous on just about anything.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIjZ9xWFcmtjABFpjaTHmfExXAEErPe6Op6ksxW-O_W3ehcYcPwmb6uNU-cCABhtRHNopca2hrLjwgBxMy9KKtKgswcjZsFCaPVMVFWJXlAcNXjDMmCoHkSpuE-YeiYkXCAtvhcf4uGT2/s1600/277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEIjZ9xWFcmtjABFpjaTHmfExXAEErPe6Op6ksxW-O_W3ehcYcPwmb6uNU-cCABhtRHNopca2hrLjwgBxMy9KKtKgswcjZsFCaPVMVFWJXlAcNXjDMmCoHkSpuE-YeiYkXCAtvhcf4uGT2/s400/277.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Getting ready to bread the fish -- flour, egg wash, panko.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienwyDBxvSyKbrz8Szs9jUwlKVwruiocu6bMRujR9aF-9BHOVsl_sqEbPixGQTBOmQtO2LsamaZOK6iZ3u1oniW2QRsvWY1054h-df7LZsLjab76l8zSWKjhGk6EX46cdkjLOGSwbdTopH/s1600/280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienwyDBxvSyKbrz8Szs9jUwlKVwruiocu6bMRujR9aF-9BHOVsl_sqEbPixGQTBOmQtO2LsamaZOK6iZ3u1oniW2QRsvWY1054h-df7LZsLjab76l8zSWKjhGk6EX46cdkjLOGSwbdTopH/s400/280.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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1st: flour with 1 tsp salt and pepper.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcADM8mzwNXvPjurU6Dp1Pqut_OET9FgBdza-TlqAQmwpIQYQmUfBn4eFu5nQKblwkwgRbHyc4I9u2GzSFSyxmIvI8bYi6zh_Y0YzkseTXhUmhPXjaTPc5SHRwKDLqz2d6H0C5FSVpfCz/s1600/282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcADM8mzwNXvPjurU6Dp1Pqut_OET9FgBdza-TlqAQmwpIQYQmUfBn4eFu5nQKblwkwgRbHyc4I9u2GzSFSyxmIvI8bYi6zh_Y0YzkseTXhUmhPXjaTPc5SHRwKDLqz2d6H0C5FSVpfCz/s400/282.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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2nd: one scrambled egg.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGAeXotXyLQs1_gFYsKgApwubB4I4qIFjUXkvaoOPlNJMJlbJLnMfQLSl5R_gbnnc-fbkECKGuSuMGULl93Ymcz3Sgb5PkysUKjjpt9fU2S6F61PKc3VcQAJmJ4_gC4_1p_cwyDS5Qq2I/s1600/287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGAeXotXyLQs1_gFYsKgApwubB4I4qIFjUXkvaoOPlNJMJlbJLnMfQLSl5R_gbnnc-fbkECKGuSuMGULl93Ymcz3Sgb5PkysUKjjpt9fU2S6F61PKc3VcQAJmJ4_gC4_1p_cwyDS5Qq2I/s400/287.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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3rd: panko breadcrumbs.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9VFw5AlgbLHRWN79nJWYqxDpHv4t-1RzfA5FspnPWJziR8UQi3eF5kJp27P0Y8CP3R4A-giEGL2EvYcYRSkYWucjIt6bYvkHLQbHKE02U7tnN2So2zzdpy6uiHG7A9XWVhBpdj4tJC79/s1600/292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9VFw5AlgbLHRWN79nJWYqxDpHv4t-1RzfA5FspnPWJziR8UQi3eF5kJp27P0Y8CP3R4A-giEGL2EvYcYRSkYWucjIt6bYvkHLQbHKE02U7tnN2So2zzdpy6uiHG7A9XWVhBpdj4tJC79/s400/292.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We also dredged one of the trout in chopped pecans, which was my favorite.</div>
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Nutty and sweet with the fish. Delicious!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0IL4Zo9xpa5S7tiYM7uNdoNK-I_btSYVTSL1FJHDbOD6ZZb-GAjWXeWahTx2x9cnNJ37Wgp-lnDy_trM2yWPSfWyGaF6glYueqEz2k4nqSS5sy71B4UGNIcyBmzGC_GmN0xwTKGC68x1/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0IL4Zo9xpa5S7tiYM7uNdoNK-I_btSYVTSL1FJHDbOD6ZZb-GAjWXeWahTx2x9cnNJ37Wgp-lnDy_trM2yWPSfWyGaF6glYueqEz2k4nqSS5sy71B4UGNIcyBmzGC_GmN0xwTKGC68x1/s400/011.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fried first in half of the herb butter and finished in a 350 degree oven for about 10 minutes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K2GmBEruXcmimimf6NFwUC2MFtbWVJhq5Yzts31kDJTKt14wC_nNmnnXv6yN79IyzTmNnrYoia67QKxS_qHZ752LPLUk6Nq2WMA0V6TgbzNqd_N-7GeGhK8FKs1ABOZ9l5tCX2YoidAN/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K2GmBEruXcmimimf6NFwUC2MFtbWVJhq5Yzts31kDJTKt14wC_nNmnnXv6yN79IyzTmNnrYoia67QKxS_qHZ752LPLUk6Nq2WMA0V6TgbzNqd_N-7GeGhK8FKs1ABOZ9l5tCX2YoidAN/s400/014.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Love the platter!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaGFaeFAoN-BCoEst76H1QVuraiACLAPpICQV5hOv0Xc_QqrLHvTuesYZB8RmLoDkCnqNqui3tIlpQQfR-NYSeoE6ApQPeIEKKJQsuV4hiu_yK3hfxR17QAeulvcASG1B2px4uzdXf-92/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaGFaeFAoN-BCoEst76H1QVuraiACLAPpICQV5hOv0Xc_QqrLHvTuesYZB8RmLoDkCnqNqui3tIlpQQfR-NYSeoE6ApQPeIEKKJQsuV4hiu_yK3hfxR17QAeulvcASG1B2px4uzdXf-92/s400/017.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Served the fish with sauteed broccolini and lemon wedges.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-0LmgC1oUuQ3mc9pvD29iVRXNgxDrntqazakxbieOGzK_IbSQXGetaEW88VDILi5g_scVGvnez9TC_32yXzwVA5bNy3DVteKy_Ap6sJx7k8z3YbpBZIy7SLUtf42c6SNSjnrnb1fii8o/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-0LmgC1oUuQ3mc9pvD29iVRXNgxDrntqazakxbieOGzK_IbSQXGetaEW88VDILi5g_scVGvnez9TC_32yXzwVA5bNy3DVteKy_Ap6sJx7k8z3YbpBZIy7SLUtf42c6SNSjnrnb1fii8o/s400/022.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMr-L8cHLtOhmea5i2LJtjvOV8ZNNjdc-MGe8zEI_jM3vm9jd4zlVlcmek0gF99YGUjMbgQmszs7mHzigCIkPDdY4WWAGriIAVOswpZIEiMFRjQtQjjV766b4U2VFzSTGtS9rVwjtZcbZG/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMr-L8cHLtOhmea5i2LJtjvOV8ZNNjdc-MGe8zEI_jM3vm9jd4zlVlcmek0gF99YGUjMbgQmszs7mHzigCIkPDdY4WWAGriIAVOswpZIEiMFRjQtQjjV766b4U2VFzSTGtS9rVwjtZcbZG/s400/026.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Can't get any fresher than that.</div>
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You don't have to catch your own trout to make this dish. Do try whole fish, though. I am not one who normally eats fish skin, but with the crunchy breading it wasn't at all fishy or gross. The only thing I wasn't too keen on were a few bones, but even those were worth the effort of this delicious meal. </div>
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Tonight I will be cooking the chukar that I shot yesterday. I am telling you, the Discovery Channel might be interested in the adventures of this city mouse turned country mouse. I like the country as much as I like my new reel. A lot. I like it a lot.</div>hailskitchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04923780491277560123noreply@blogger.com0