I get it now

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):

• 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.
• 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.
• 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.  

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.

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!

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).  

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.  

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.

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

Here's the micro version of life with baby:

This is no longer the view from our backyard.  Nor is the the view of my belly.

Can you see how much fun I am having in the tub? So much fun.

This was after several hours of natural labor in the tub, an epidural, several more hours of pushing,

and a baby that refused to come out the way God intended. 

Malia Grace born November 1 at 3:58 a.m. 7 lbs 2 oz, 19.5 in.

Pure baby love.

The Great Samoan Hunter transformed!

Our first attempt at baby carrying. Great success! 

Cutest baby ever.  No bias here.

Pop a cap

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.

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!

The truck started.

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.

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.  

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.

This was the view from our camp.  The Great Samoan Hunter crossed a little island and

Tuli could not stand to be away from him.  

Wait for me Dad!

I am hustling!

Careful now, Tuli.

Didn't see that coming. 

Poor dog.

I think he was contemplating a second attempt.

Never mind.

Defeated.

Forlorn.

He eventually swam across. Funny dog.

Bear spray, check.

First, one should never squeeze their arm against their fly rod in any photos - pregnant or otherwise. Not flattering!  

Second, we caught at least fifty of these little brookies and rainbows.  

It was a quantity over quality kind of trip.

My standard fish photo.  

The Great Samoan Hunter lost this exact fish earlier in the day. 

We returned after dinner and he landed him.  My husband is the man.

French press coffee and pastries in the mountains taste divine.

Apres fish.  Keeping it classy with smoked mussels.

Chicken thighs cooked over coals seasoned only with fresh lemon juice. 

Makes for the most tender, juicy chicken you'll ever taste. Try it on your grill at home.  

Tin foil veggies.

Great day followed by a great meal.  I tried to capture the smores (made with CARAMELLOS!).

Sticky fingers + camera = bad news.

I actually have a recipe to post soon so stay tuned. Have a superb week, all!

33 by 33

This afternoon as I was uploading photos, the first shot to come up was this beauty:

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.

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. 

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).  

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. 

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. 

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.

I am off to pack my bear spray and my marshmallows.  xoH

Cut your squash in half, pull out all of the seeds, drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Roast in a 350 degree oven for about an hour.

Gently pull back the threads.

Shred until you have individual tendrils.

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.

Toss all together with a little extra olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.

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!

Here are my goods prepped and ready for the cooler:

curried mango chicken salad, squash salad and tin foil dinner fixings.  

H and G. Hello and goodbye.

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.

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 Sleepless in Seattle? H and G.  Hello and goodbye.  So is our schedule from May - October.  

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.  

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.

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!

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.  

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.

Have a grand weekend all!  Go buy a lottery ticket for good measure. 

Second year asparagus. 

Not sure which is sexier, the irrigation boots or the garlic.  

Lovely Belle.

Lovely Heather.

One can never have too many bottle openers.

This next progression made me laugh out loud.  Funny dogs.  No plants were harmed in this mayhem.