Here are a couple of my favorite pictures he has taken!
why we said "yes" to special needs
6 years ago
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Working as a "married team"
As an old married woman (I have been married for 2 years and 2 months now!), I believe that the key to a happy marriage is being a team. As simple as this sounds, it can make all the difference in the world, if a husband and a wife have hobbies together, cook together, clean together, etc. For instance, Bo is an amazing photographer. He can take portraits or landscapes, and with turn of a few knobs on his fancy camera, adjust the photo into art. So, when he goes out to take pictures, I love to go with him. I often point out a "picture perfect" scene, and he snaps away. Many times, we end the day at sunset, maybe have a glass of wine or two, and we know we spent the day as a team, working together.
Here are a couple of my favorite pictures he has taken!
Here are a couple of my favorite pictures he has taken!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Saturday morning happiness
My baby loves pancakes. And I like to make my baby happy.
On the rare Saturdays that we get to wake up together (he hasn't had a day off in six weeks), our favorite thing to do is slowly wake up over a period of a couple hours, (this part I must edit), and then stumble into the kitchen to make pancakes. I am not sure if I have mentioned it before, but my mom is a cook like none other. She is fantasmatic! HOWEVER, in all my days, I have never tasted yummy pancakes like Bo makes. I think I said "I love you" right after I tasted his delicious fluffiness for the first time.
So, I thought I would share with you guys a few tips to make pancakes that make your tongue sing with joy.
1. Don't over mix the batter.
2. Let the batter REST. This might be the most important tip of all!!!
3. Test the hotness of the pan...
4. And as soon as the edges of your pancake starts to brown, you should flip it. NO sooner, NO later!
Make these and make your day!
On the rare Saturdays that we get to wake up together (he hasn't had a day off in six weeks), our favorite thing to do is slowly wake up over a period of a couple hours, (this part I must edit), and then stumble into the kitchen to make pancakes. I am not sure if I have mentioned it before, but my mom is a cook like none other. She is fantasmatic! HOWEVER, in all my days, I have never tasted yummy pancakes like Bo makes. I think I said "I love you" right after I tasted his delicious fluffiness for the first time.
So, I thought I would share with you guys a few tips to make pancakes that make your tongue sing with joy.
1. Don't over mix the batter.
2. Let the batter REST. This might be the most important tip of all!!!
3. Test the hotness of the pan...
4. And as soon as the edges of your pancake starts to brown, you should flip it. NO sooner, NO later!
Make these and make your day!
A doctor with a passion
Morning starts early for a doctor, and a day never ends at a hospital.
Life consists of snapshots of time: He rolls out of bed; a car crashes. He splashes his face; a heart stops beating. He squints to focus his face in the mirror; a baby is born. Khayree Butler is a physician and a photographer. He saves lives and captures it at the same time.
These days, Butler’s time is filled with countless hospital consults, the morbid task of writing notes, and the occasional opportunity to hold retractors during a surgery, but every chance he gets, he sneaks out towards nature and loses himself in his pictures.
You could say Butler grew up surrounded by art. Born in southern Maryland to an artist mother and a carpenter father Khayree knew what it was like to create beauty from an early age.
After high school graduation, Butler attended Florida Institute of Technology and majored in marine biology, and it was during his time at FIT that photography entered Butler’s life. In his sophomore year of college, he began taking casual pictures around the marine lab and on the North Carolina coast. Butler was suddenly and irreversibly drawn to the medium.
During his junior year at FIT, Butler realized he needed a little more human interaction with his future job. After shadowing the doctor who performed his grandfather’s hernia surgery, Khayree decided to pursue a career in medicine. Butler is quick to point out that Zach Braff had a little to do with it, too.
“I was watching Scrubs,” Butler laughed, “and I thought, ‘You know, I could do that!’”
And so began the long road to where he is today, finishing up his intern year of residency at the University of Florida. He will be the first one to tell you it is no accident they call it “residency.” Until six years ago, young physicians were staying at the hospital for an excess of 120 hours each week. It was their residence. Now, government has mandated they work no longer than 80 hours per week. As hard as one may try to stay within the boundaries of these limitations, many interns and residents smudge the lines when filling out the required paper work, and for Butler, it is no different.
Residents at the University of Florida have are used to the physical exhaustion, but they can also be affected emotionally and spiritually. This year, the program has had residents be hospitalized, and some young physicians have even had quit secondary to depression. For the ones attempting to hold their head high and trudge through, it is necessary to lean on something. Some lean on family, others lean on friends, and some, including Khayree, simply look for a diversion.
“When I was in college, if I got stressed, I would surf. It was just me and my board out in the water, and my only focus was on the next wave coming in,” Butler said.
These days, instead of grabbing a surf board, Khayree reaches for his camera. Wanting to take advantage of every free moment, even though they are few and far between, Khayree heads towards nature and what has become his sanctuary. He is able to take reprieve in the art form.
“I just go out, and it is all about me and the camera, nothing else matters. I am thinking about exposures and lenses. I see people fishing on the lake and birds flying overhead,” Butler says. “I guess it is where we escape.”
Back at the hospital, Butler is constantly making decisions in a split second. This takes creativity. The same goes for photography and its fleeting moments of significance. However, the relationship between medicine and art does not end at inventiveness. A good surgeon sees in 3D, Butler explains, and an artist must do the same.
“Art is about spatial relationships, and in surgery, spatial relationships are the hardest part. It is one of those things you have to master.”
Butler admits that it is hard to always see the end product of your work but says there are moments that worlds collide and your efforts are rewarded by a beautiful creation.
“A lot of taking pictures is simply allowing yourself to see the photo. There is always something beautiful. For example, I took a picture of a tree. From one perspective, it is just a tree sitting in water, and then you look at it from another and it looks like a duck that turns into an octopus at the end. You can turn something ordinary into something that has a meaning.”
Even though his art captures his creativity and imagination, for now, Butler’s plan is to pursue a career in general surgery.
If he had to choose between being a world renowned surgeon or a famous photographer, Khayree’s heart still lies with his patients.
“Right now, photography is what I do for fun. I am not trying to change the world with it. If I have done something to be a world renowned surgeon, I have helped a lot of folks.”
Life consists of snapshots of time: He rolls out of bed; a car crashes. He splashes his face; a heart stops beating. He squints to focus his face in the mirror; a baby is born. Khayree Butler is a physician and a photographer. He saves lives and captures it at the same time.
These days, Butler’s time is filled with countless hospital consults, the morbid task of writing notes, and the occasional opportunity to hold retractors during a surgery, but every chance he gets, he sneaks out towards nature and loses himself in his pictures.
You could say Butler grew up surrounded by art. Born in southern Maryland to an artist mother and a carpenter father Khayree knew what it was like to create beauty from an early age.
After high school graduation, Butler attended Florida Institute of Technology and majored in marine biology, and it was during his time at FIT that photography entered Butler’s life. In his sophomore year of college, he began taking casual pictures around the marine lab and on the North Carolina coast. Butler was suddenly and irreversibly drawn to the medium.
During his junior year at FIT, Butler realized he needed a little more human interaction with his future job. After shadowing the doctor who performed his grandfather’s hernia surgery, Khayree decided to pursue a career in medicine. Butler is quick to point out that Zach Braff had a little to do with it, too.
“I was watching Scrubs,” Butler laughed, “and I thought, ‘You know, I could do that!’”
And so began the long road to where he is today, finishing up his intern year of residency at the University of Florida. He will be the first one to tell you it is no accident they call it “residency.” Until six years ago, young physicians were staying at the hospital for an excess of 120 hours each week. It was their residence. Now, government has mandated they work no longer than 80 hours per week. As hard as one may try to stay within the boundaries of these limitations, many interns and residents smudge the lines when filling out the required paper work, and for Butler, it is no different.
Residents at the University of Florida have are used to the physical exhaustion, but they can also be affected emotionally and spiritually. This year, the program has had residents be hospitalized, and some young physicians have even had quit secondary to depression. For the ones attempting to hold their head high and trudge through, it is necessary to lean on something. Some lean on family, others lean on friends, and some, including Khayree, simply look for a diversion.
“When I was in college, if I got stressed, I would surf. It was just me and my board out in the water, and my only focus was on the next wave coming in,” Butler said.
These days, instead of grabbing a surf board, Khayree reaches for his camera. Wanting to take advantage of every free moment, even though they are few and far between, Khayree heads towards nature and what has become his sanctuary. He is able to take reprieve in the art form.
“I just go out, and it is all about me and the camera, nothing else matters. I am thinking about exposures and lenses. I see people fishing on the lake and birds flying overhead,” Butler says. “I guess it is where we escape.”
Back at the hospital, Butler is constantly making decisions in a split second. This takes creativity. The same goes for photography and its fleeting moments of significance. However, the relationship between medicine and art does not end at inventiveness. A good surgeon sees in 3D, Butler explains, and an artist must do the same.
“Art is about spatial relationships, and in surgery, spatial relationships are the hardest part. It is one of those things you have to master.”
Butler admits that it is hard to always see the end product of your work but says there are moments that worlds collide and your efforts are rewarded by a beautiful creation.
“A lot of taking pictures is simply allowing yourself to see the photo. There is always something beautiful. For example, I took a picture of a tree. From one perspective, it is just a tree sitting in water, and then you look at it from another and it looks like a duck that turns into an octopus at the end. You can turn something ordinary into something that has a meaning.”
Even though his art captures his creativity and imagination, for now, Butler’s plan is to pursue a career in general surgery.
If he had to choose between being a world renowned surgeon or a famous photographer, Khayree’s heart still lies with his patients.
“Right now, photography is what I do for fun. I am not trying to change the world with it. If I have done something to be a world renowned surgeon, I have helped a lot of folks.”
Monday, November 30, 2009
What your momma didn't tell you
I don't mean to dwell on the topic...or maybe I do. (If you know me long enough, you will find out I tend to stay on the same subject for DAYS. Just ask my husband.)
Anyway, my sister had a baby. His name is Smith.
I have come to realize that my mother's generation tend to be...how should I say this...too perfect, maybe a little closed off, a bit prude if you will. I can hear my mother talking about childbirth right now..."It is the most amazing experience of your life. It is a gift from God." I don't know, but I am pretty sure in my mother's version of giving birth, there was no blood, sweat or tears. Hair was maintained in perfect Farrah Fawcett layers and curls and fake eyelashes were intact.
However, whether it is because the newer generation is more open or less concerned about appearances, many of my "new mom" friends are telling me things aren't so peachy. Here are a couple warnings I have heard.
1. You can't laugh after a c-section.
2. All of your beautiful baby's first poops are apparently like crude oil...seeping, seeping, seeping. Per Shae "my baby produces oil."
3. Life tends to be like groundhog day...you wake up and it is the same thing over, and over, and over.
Anyway, my sister had a baby. His name is Smith.
I have come to realize that my mother's generation tend to be...how should I say this...too perfect, maybe a little closed off, a bit prude if you will. I can hear my mother talking about childbirth right now..."It is the most amazing experience of your life. It is a gift from God." I don't know, but I am pretty sure in my mother's version of giving birth, there was no blood, sweat or tears. Hair was maintained in perfect Farrah Fawcett layers and curls and fake eyelashes were intact.
However, whether it is because the newer generation is more open or less concerned about appearances, many of my "new mom" friends are telling me things aren't so peachy. Here are a couple warnings I have heard.
1. You can't laugh after a c-section.
2. All of your beautiful baby's first poops are apparently like crude oil...seeping, seeping, seeping. Per Shae "my baby produces oil."
3. Life tends to be like groundhog day...you wake up and it is the same thing over, and over, and over.
There are stories that grab you attention, and then there are stories that grab your heart. I found a story that did just that. In two sentence: When baby Moses was born, his mother died from a rare amniotic fluid aneurysm. His mother's dream was to breast feed her baby, and that is when 20 neighborhood women stepped in and breast fed Moses.
This got me thinking about the benefits of breast feeding. My Jiddi (grandfather) always attributed his strength and health to being breast fed as a baby. Whether it was that, or the strong Lebanese genes, my family has always encouraged it.
Here is what I learned:
1. It is spelled breastfeeding.
2. A study showed that it may curb heart and diabetes risk factors.
3. Per an extremely sexy doctor I know, babies who are breastfed, are less likely to develop new born health issues.
4. A woman's risk for breast and ovarian cancer is reduced.
5. As selfish as this may seem, women who breastfeed burn as many calories as running two miles!! Whaa! That is about 200-500 calories, or as I like to look at it, two scoops of ice cream.
So, it looks as though, without the massive scientific research behind it, my Jiddi knew what he was talking about!
This got me thinking about the benefits of breast feeding. My Jiddi (grandfather) always attributed his strength and health to being breast fed as a baby. Whether it was that, or the strong Lebanese genes, my family has always encouraged it.
Here is what I learned:
1. It is spelled breastfeeding.
2. A study showed that it may curb heart and diabetes risk factors.
3. Per an extremely sexy doctor I know, babies who are breastfed, are less likely to develop new born health issues.
4. A woman's risk for breast and ovarian cancer is reduced.
5. As selfish as this may seem, women who breastfeed burn as many calories as running two miles!! Whaa! That is about 200-500 calories, or as I like to look at it, two scoops of ice cream.
So, it looks as though, without the massive scientific research behind it, my Jiddi knew what he was talking about!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Venison
When the seasons begin to change (and let's be honest, fall tends to come a little later for Florida), I am inspired to make dishes that reflect the weather. Some of Bo's fondest memories are going deer hunting with his mom and dad when he was a little boy. As I have mentioned in a previous post about fishing and having a garden, it is such a great feeling for me when you can eat something you have grown (or shot, or caught). Anyway...sorry PETA. Even though Bo and I have not been able to go hunting since we have been in Florida, we are fortunate enough to have family bring us fresh game. Bo's father, Marc, and uncle (Puncle) have both given us amazing venison sausage and loin. Just prior to Halloween, I tried a new recipe, and it turned out to be amazing. It is from Jamie Oliver.
10 juniper berries, crushed with the side of a knife
3 sprigs fresh rosemary, leaves picked and chopped
Salt and pepper
2 pounds venison loin in 1 large piece, trimmed
Olive oil
1 bulb garlic, unpeeled
Water
1 wineglass of good-quality red wine, like Pinot Noir
Combing the juniper berries and rosemary, add a pinch of salt and pepper, then sprinkle over a board. Rub the venison all over with olive oil before rolling it across the board and pressing it into the flavorings. Heat an ovenproof frying pan over a high heat and add a glug of olive oil. Sear the venison for a couple of minutes on all sides, then remove the pan from the heat. Add the smashed garlic bulb and any leftover flavorings from the chopping board. Shake everything together, pour in a splash of water to cool things down and place in the oven. Cook according to your liking - about 8 minutes will give you medium venison.
Take the venison out of the oven and let it rest on a plate, covered loosely with foil. Pour away any excess fat. Squash the garlic cloves with a fork and discard the skins. Mix the garlic with the herbs in the pan and place on the heat. Pour in the red wine, simmer until it has reduced by half and then add the butter. Stir with a wooden spoon, scraping up all the sticky, meaty goodness from the bottom. As soon as the sauce comes together, take the pan off the heat, correct the seasoning and stir in another knob of butter. Carve the venison into desired-thickness. Pour any resting juices from the plate back into the pan, then pour your gravy through a sieve over the meat.
10 juniper berries, crushed with the side of a knife
3 sprigs fresh rosemary, leaves picked and chopped
Salt and pepper
2 pounds venison loin in 1 large piece, trimmed
Olive oil
1 bulb garlic, unpeeled
Water
1 wineglass of good-quality red wine, like Pinot Noir
Combing the juniper berries and rosemary, add a pinch of salt and pepper, then sprinkle over a board. Rub the venison all over with olive oil before rolling it across the board and pressing it into the flavorings. Heat an ovenproof frying pan over a high heat and add a glug of olive oil. Sear the venison for a couple of minutes on all sides, then remove the pan from the heat. Add the smashed garlic bulb and any leftover flavorings from the chopping board. Shake everything together, pour in a splash of water to cool things down and place in the oven. Cook according to your liking - about 8 minutes will give you medium venison.
Take the venison out of the oven and let it rest on a plate, covered loosely with foil. Pour away any excess fat. Squash the garlic cloves with a fork and discard the skins. Mix the garlic with the herbs in the pan and place on the heat. Pour in the red wine, simmer until it has reduced by half and then add the butter. Stir with a wooden spoon, scraping up all the sticky, meaty goodness from the bottom. As soon as the sauce comes together, take the pan off the heat, correct the seasoning and stir in another knob of butter. Carve the venison into desired-thickness. Pour any resting juices from the plate back into the pan, then pour your gravy through a sieve over the meat.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Recip-YEE!
As promised, I want to post a recipe that will put to use your wonderfully homemade, loved herbs! Their yours. You have grown them. You have carefully raised them, and now you can eat them. As Poison once said, "Open up and say ahh!"
This recipe contains my FAVORITE herbs, basil, and its bestest friend, Mr. Tomato. I first fell in love with tomato basil soup from La Madeliene's in Dallas, TX, when my mother would take my sis, Shae, and I shopping for school clothes (yes, we had to drive 7 hours to get to decent clothing stores.) We would shop all day, and as soon as we started becoming short with one another and irritated, we knew it was time to eat. La Madeliene's soup was amazing. It was the perfect combination of sweet basil and tart tomatoes. However, I am pretty sure there was a fair amount of cream added to the mixture. With recipes, it is important to remember that by adjusting certain cooking techniques, you are able to leave out the high calorie ingredients but still have the mouth watering flavor. For instance, in the following recipe, instead of adding cream, you can roast the tomatoes to create fantastically, scrumptious soup.
Ingredients:
3 lbs of ripe plum tomatoes, cut in half
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp good olive oil
1Tbsp kosher salt
1 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 cups chopped yellow onion (2 onions)
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 (28 oz) canned plum tomatoes, with their juice
4 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss together the tomatoes, 1/4 cup olive oil, salt and pepper. Spread the tomatoes in one layer on a baking sheet and roast for 45 minutes.
In an 8-quart stockpot over medium heat, saute the onions and garlic with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, the butter, and red pepper flakes for 10 minutes, until the onions start to brown. Add the canned tomatoes, basil, thyme, and chicken stock. Add the oven-roasted tomatoes, including the liquid on the baking sheet. Bring to a boil and simmer uncovered for 40 minutes. Pass through a food mill fitted with the coarsest blade. Taste for seasonings. Serve hot or cold.
Recipe from Ina Garten's The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
This recipe contains my FAVORITE herbs, basil, and its bestest friend, Mr. Tomato. I first fell in love with tomato basil soup from La Madeliene's in Dallas, TX, when my mother would take my sis, Shae, and I shopping for school clothes (yes, we had to drive 7 hours to get to decent clothing stores.) We would shop all day, and as soon as we started becoming short with one another and irritated, we knew it was time to eat. La Madeliene's soup was amazing. It was the perfect combination of sweet basil and tart tomatoes. However, I am pretty sure there was a fair amount of cream added to the mixture. With recipes, it is important to remember that by adjusting certain cooking techniques, you are able to leave out the high calorie ingredients but still have the mouth watering flavor. For instance, in the following recipe, instead of adding cream, you can roast the tomatoes to create fantastically, scrumptious soup.
Ingredients:
3 lbs of ripe plum tomatoes, cut in half
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp good olive oil
1Tbsp kosher salt
1 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 cups chopped yellow onion (2 onions)
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 (28 oz) canned plum tomatoes, with their juice
4 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss together the tomatoes, 1/4 cup olive oil, salt and pepper. Spread the tomatoes in one layer on a baking sheet and roast for 45 minutes.
In an 8-quart stockpot over medium heat, saute the onions and garlic with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, the butter, and red pepper flakes for 10 minutes, until the onions start to brown. Add the canned tomatoes, basil, thyme, and chicken stock. Add the oven-roasted tomatoes, including the liquid on the baking sheet. Bring to a boil and simmer uncovered for 40 minutes. Pass through a food mill fitted with the coarsest blade. Taste for seasonings. Serve hot or cold.
Recipe from Ina Garten's The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
The rural city life
When I was little, I dreamed big. At one point, I wanted to be a famous actress. In another preteen era, I wanted to run a charity that took people who were down and out and gave them a makeover (to this day, I truly believe that if life's hardness was stripped away, everyone is beautiful.) I am sure my mother could tell you all the other dreams I had. However, as I grew older, my dreams were becoming less and less about big cities and bright lights and more about country life. I began becoming interested in living off the land, becoming more self sufficient. In physical therapy school, while we were being lectured on the PNF and NDT, I would be writing out lists of jams and jelly (strawberry and champagne, blueberries and rosemary) I could make and sell by the roadside. I could see it in my head...The West Texas sun just beginning to set behind a beautiful cotton field, me in a dress (flowing off course), my little stand almost empty because it is the end of the day and everyone wants my product...Anyway, I am obviously not living in West Texas, being a rancher woman or selling my homemade organic goods. I am here in Gville, with a beautiful husband and two wonderful (but sometimes stinky) dogs. Life is good. I am lucky enough to have a husband who has his feet on the ground enough to keep me there, but he also tries to make my dreams a reality as much as he can. So, he has toiled outside and has built a beautiful little garden. He also was genius enough to begin a compost pile, and we just used the first of the black goodness to start our mustard green crop. I guess we are going into year three of this little adventure and save a few bumps in the road (sorry for the weeklong trip to Mexico, little plants!), we have been able to include our homegrown goods into our meals almost daily. I guess I am writing this to tell you that it is fun, creative, and self-fulfilling to eat something that your hard work and loving hands have produced. It is also great to have fresh produce at your finger tips. I believe it helps inspire healthier living. You can just top some tomatoes with basil, a splash of balsamic, and a dash of salt and pepper, and voila! you have a healthy snack. Here are a few tips to get started:
1. Start small. Herbs are the easiest thing to grow. Really. Plant them in small pots and you can bring them in over the freezing winter nights. They will grow year round if you take enought care of them. My favorites are basil, sage, rosemary and cilantro (I have to pay a little homage to yummy Mexican dishes.)
2. Go out there every day and talk to you plants. Touch them. I know it sounds cheesy, but I think a little bit of tactile stimulation really gets their juices flowing.
3. Eat them often. If you are falling behind on using your herbs, go ahead and just take a pair of scissors (I just use my finger nails) and trim them back. Herbs are like many plants. They tend to grow better and faster the more they are trimmed.
A fun healthy recipe will follow in my next post!!
1. Start small. Herbs are the easiest thing to grow. Really. Plant them in small pots and you can bring them in over the freezing winter nights. They will grow year round if you take enought care of them. My favorites are basil, sage, rosemary and cilantro (I have to pay a little homage to yummy Mexican dishes.)
2. Go out there every day and talk to you plants. Touch them. I know it sounds cheesy, but I think a little bit of tactile stimulation really gets their juices flowing.
3. Eat them often. If you are falling behind on using your herbs, go ahead and just take a pair of scissors (I just use my finger nails) and trim them back. Herbs are like many plants. They tend to grow better and faster the more they are trimmed.
A fun healthy recipe will follow in my next post!!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Beer..."the universal language for men" and Cancer
This is totally awesomo! (and I do mean "o"). I love that someone is getting out there, getting the message heard. Everyone knows I love my docs (especially you, Lovebug), but sometimes the way they explain things can leave you just staring at the extra long nose hair coming out of their nose, and thinking "was that English or Swahili?" People need someone to talk to them in their language, and if that means over a brew or two, I think that is rad! The things is, people listen more to family and friends than they do to the "experts." So, grab a beer (or martini, if that is the way you ride) and talk about HEALTH! The point is, friends don't let friends not get their no-man's land or their boobies felt up and checked.
The no exercise exercise
Life is busy, right? Some days are busier than others, some weeks are more stressed filled, and some months are simply exhausting. While working out should be a priority, even in a busy life, sometimes there just doesn't seem to be time. Rather than throwing your hands up and letting yourself slide down the slippery slope of not working out, make the most out of everyday activities.
1. Take the stairs.
2. Park at the back of the parking lot.
3. Clean your house.
4. Walk the dogs.
5. Play music and dance during chores.
6. Stretch during watching TV.
7. Last but not least...hold in your tummy! This will build core muscles and help ward off back pain!!!
Here is a few more ideas from everydayhealth.com.
1. Take the stairs.
2. Park at the back of the parking lot.
3. Clean your house.
4. Walk the dogs.
5. Play music and dance during chores.
6. Stretch during watching TV.
7. Last but not least...hold in your tummy! This will build core muscles and help ward off back pain!!!
Here is a few more ideas from everydayhealth.com.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
What Jimmy Dean can do for you
I have to admit it...I love these commercials. Now, I realized eating greasy, sausagey, cheesy breakfast sandwiches can't be that healthy. Well, you're half right. Jimmy Dean D-lights is a breakfast sandwich made with turkey sausage and whole wheat bread and has only 260 calories.
Even though it has been reported over...and over...and over...(you catch my drift), breakfast is a MUST! Let me think of a couple excuses you may give: you don't have time, there isn't anything healthy, you aren't hungry in the morning. Now let me give you some tips:
1. Try not to eat late at night. This technique also works well for getting your ass out of bed. Some people say the joy of life gets then out of bed, but I can honestly say Kellog's Red Berries cereal get me out of bed everyday.
2. If time is of the essence, grab something portable, like a healthy breakfast sandwich or a breakfast bar (Read the label! Some of these can be filled with sugar.)
3. Chug a glass of water before breakfasts. This is a personal tip, and I am not sure if there is any research behind it. However, it gets your day started off right, right?
So, go out there my little munchkins and munch your morning away!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Emergency Room Chaos
With the health care debate raging...people calling names...statistics being spewed out...I thought I would clear the air for everyone and give you a personal account of my experience in the ER.
I stepped into the corral. Moaning cows were strewn everywhere. Heads, deemed painful (“I promise it’s 10 of 10 pain, Doc!”), turned toward me. All eyes were on me. I made my way up to the registration desk. After watching the (so-aptly titled) receptionist bitch to her friend on the phone for about four point six minutes, I turned to walk away.
“I can help you now.”
“Thanks for your concern.” I only got a stare from the ring laden, red fingernail filing lady. I got the sense my sarcasm wasn’t getting me far, but then again when has it ever worked out for me? What the hell do I care anyway; my freaking heart feels like it is coming through my chest!
“Um, I need to see a doctor? Should I fill out a form or something?”
No words, just a red finger-nail pointing to the box that said “Welcome to the Emergency Department. Please fill out this form first and wait for your name to be called.”
I do so, and find a seat among my fellow heifers.
The one sitting beside me is wrapped in a worn, blue-striped hospital blanket. Her hair is disheveled, and the tattoo on her ankle leaves no doubt as to what Tommy means to her. I stare at it for a second, and think to myself about the state of marriages these days. I decide my neighbor has made a bad decision.
In the back of a pickup truck, the love birds cuddle.
“I promise to love you always, baby. There ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”
Neighbor lady strokes Tommy and his ego.
“Oh, Tommy, I will always love you, too! You’re all I have ever wanted.”
And there goes the tattoo, penetrated into her skin forever. Where is Tommy now? Probably finding a new bessie to love.
This room is a freaking ice locker! Meat could hang in here for days. My mind is focused on my pain. I start to shiver and then slump over. This must be what it is like to get hypothermia or to have a heart attack! I think I am having a heart attack.
“Knee-cho! Mrs. Knee-cho!”
There is no way that woman could be trying to pronounce my name.
“Shelby Knee-cho?”
Oh, for goodness sake. I start to stand up, and my chest violently clenches down. I can’t even stand erect anymore! I want to walk on all fours, but to save face, I only adopt a caveman-esque position, holding my heart as I lumber towards the nurse.
“It’s ‘Nee-coy’.” (Not that it matters at this point).
She just stares.
As I step into the room, a man, whose arm has taken the form of a red-colored log, gets up from a beige chair and limps his way into a hospital bed. It is relayed to the transport nurse that the patient has “the MRSA” and should be taken to the floor.
The nurse points me into the same beige chair. Not one ounce of cleaning solution has touched that chair. I sure as hell am not going to.
“Could you please clean it? That man had an infection, and not cleaning after him is how things are passed in hospitals.”
A half-assessed attempt was made by one squirt of the solution and one swipe of the rag.
My blood pressure is normal. My temperature is normal. Heart rate? Normal. My blood is taken, and I am sent back to the corral.
Thirty-six minutes later.
“Mrs. Knee-cho!”
I get up.
“That’s me.”
I am whisked into a gurney. The halls of the hospital whiz by. The whining patients fill the pastel colored rooms. (My pain has got to be worse than ANYONE else in this damn place!) My final destination is a dark room, with what looks like a machine from NASA. As I lay on the table, there are ceiling tiles painted by children. One says, “For my sister Maggie” and another “Philippians 4:13”. The stabbing in my chest lessens.
Warm goop is squirted on my belly. The nurse starts getting a weird look on her face. “Have you ever had a CATscan?”
“No. Why? Do I need one?”
“Oh, well, I was just wondering.”
Bullshit.
“The doctor will be in to talk to you in just a bit.”
I wait for the doc, and it seems like hours before he gets to me room. He strolls in, a ray of light shines around him, his chestnut brown hair flows even though there is no breeze, and I do believe his eye had a sparkle when he winked at me.
“You’re a special girl.”
How did he know!? I have been trying to convince people of that forever.
“You are part of a group of 0.25% of Americans who are blessed with a duplicate gallbladder. That means you have two gallbladders.”
I think I could have figured that one out.
“You are going to need surgery.”
“If I have two, can I keep one?”
I stepped into the corral. Moaning cows were strewn everywhere. Heads, deemed painful (“I promise it’s 10 of 10 pain, Doc!”), turned toward me. All eyes were on me. I made my way up to the registration desk. After watching the (so-aptly titled) receptionist bitch to her friend on the phone for about four point six minutes, I turned to walk away.
“I can help you now.”
“Thanks for your concern.” I only got a stare from the ring laden, red fingernail filing lady. I got the sense my sarcasm wasn’t getting me far, but then again when has it ever worked out for me? What the hell do I care anyway; my freaking heart feels like it is coming through my chest!
“Um, I need to see a doctor? Should I fill out a form or something?”
No words, just a red finger-nail pointing to the box that said “Welcome to the Emergency Department. Please fill out this form first and wait for your name to be called.”
I do so, and find a seat among my fellow heifers.
The one sitting beside me is wrapped in a worn, blue-striped hospital blanket. Her hair is disheveled, and the tattoo on her ankle leaves no doubt as to what Tommy means to her. I stare at it for a second, and think to myself about the state of marriages these days. I decide my neighbor has made a bad decision.
In the back of a pickup truck, the love birds cuddle.
“I promise to love you always, baby. There ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”
Neighbor lady strokes Tommy and his ego.
“Oh, Tommy, I will always love you, too! You’re all I have ever wanted.”
And there goes the tattoo, penetrated into her skin forever. Where is Tommy now? Probably finding a new bessie to love.
This room is a freaking ice locker! Meat could hang in here for days. My mind is focused on my pain. I start to shiver and then slump over. This must be what it is like to get hypothermia or to have a heart attack! I think I am having a heart attack.
“Knee-cho! Mrs. Knee-cho!”
There is no way that woman could be trying to pronounce my name.
“Shelby Knee-cho?”
Oh, for goodness sake. I start to stand up, and my chest violently clenches down. I can’t even stand erect anymore! I want to walk on all fours, but to save face, I only adopt a caveman-esque position, holding my heart as I lumber towards the nurse.
“It’s ‘Nee-coy’.” (Not that it matters at this point).
She just stares.
As I step into the room, a man, whose arm has taken the form of a red-colored log, gets up from a beige chair and limps his way into a hospital bed. It is relayed to the transport nurse that the patient has “the MRSA” and should be taken to the floor.
The nurse points me into the same beige chair. Not one ounce of cleaning solution has touched that chair. I sure as hell am not going to.
“Could you please clean it? That man had an infection, and not cleaning after him is how things are passed in hospitals.”
A half-assessed attempt was made by one squirt of the solution and one swipe of the rag.
My blood pressure is normal. My temperature is normal. Heart rate? Normal. My blood is taken, and I am sent back to the corral.
Thirty-six minutes later.
“Mrs. Knee-cho!”
I get up.
“That’s me.”
I am whisked into a gurney. The halls of the hospital whiz by. The whining patients fill the pastel colored rooms. (My pain has got to be worse than ANYONE else in this damn place!) My final destination is a dark room, with what looks like a machine from NASA. As I lay on the table, there are ceiling tiles painted by children. One says, “For my sister Maggie” and another “Philippians 4:13”. The stabbing in my chest lessens.
Warm goop is squirted on my belly. The nurse starts getting a weird look on her face. “Have you ever had a CATscan?”
“No. Why? Do I need one?”
“Oh, well, I was just wondering.”
Bullshit.
“The doctor will be in to talk to you in just a bit.”
I wait for the doc, and it seems like hours before he gets to me room. He strolls in, a ray of light shines around him, his chestnut brown hair flows even though there is no breeze, and I do believe his eye had a sparkle when he winked at me.
“You’re a special girl.”
How did he know!? I have been trying to convince people of that forever.
“You are part of a group of 0.25% of Americans who are blessed with a duplicate gallbladder. That means you have two gallbladders.”
I think I could have figured that one out.
“You are going to need surgery.”
“If I have two, can I keep one?”
Bowling to greatness
I love this video. It has always amazed me how just a little change in activity or a simple exercise can dramatically increase a senior's quality of health and life. So, grab gramps and grams and take them for a spin with the Wii!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
A passion for excellence
Life is short. Each day it seems shorter(hmmmm). In the evenings, when I am slouching my way to my red door, clumsily putting my key in the lock, and dragging my feet inside, I ask myself where the time has slipped away to. Is it watching TV on the couch...not there. Did it slither into my bed...nope. How about the kitchen...I don't see any time there. I can usually find it either in the musky halls of the J School on UF campus or the fluorescent lit units of Shands Hospital. I have a job, I am studying for a second grad degree, I have a house, two dogs, a cat and loving husband. These things always require my attention, and so I thought, up until today,that my life was pretty hectic. I have always said that there are so many things I would like to accomplish but often don't have the time or energy...and in walks Marta Montenegro. She is the CEO, publisher and editor-in-chief of SOBeFiT Magazine. Her publication has just won She is a beast. And I mean that in the most jaw-dropping, I am such a weakling in comparison, she is my hero way. Montenegro wakes up at 2:45 am, performs a quick assesment of her competition publications, runs, goes to the gym, goes to work, and goes to teach at FIU. Honestly, I get tired just typing what this woman does. Did I mention she was my hero?
I am writing this to say...take life by the horns (I am from Texas), accomplish what you want, and quit wasting time feeling like you have no time. I think Marta would agree.
I am writing this to say...take life by the horns (I am from Texas), accomplish what you want, and quit wasting time feeling like you have no time. I think Marta would agree.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
My health care reform
Let me hold your hand. I will walk you to the water. I will tickle your throat and that will force you to drink the water. Better yet, let's just make it Kool-Aid. Besides the Jim Jones Kool-Aid just imagine the big red picture of sugary goodness busting through the wall of your house saying "Hey kids drink up. I support the local vascular surgeon and endocrinologist as well as all of those companies that make dressing supplies that allow nurses to wrap your nasty ass rotting diabetic foot." Then the Marlboro Man rides up on a camel and stuffs a cigarette on the kids mouth as says "Start puffing son-of-a-bitch, this will make your stinky ass foot fall off faster." True healthcare reform is in the hand of the Marlboro Man.
Vacation puts the "die" in diet
I told myself that I was going to eat healthy. Salads and chicken for me. One week on vacation can't be to bad. I had eaten healthy for two weeks prior. I wanted to look healthy as a horse for vacation. Bikini was fitting better, abs were ripped like a 1920's washboard. Well now I just feel like old nag that's being turned to pasture. Better yet, I think they may send my ass staight to the glue factory. You know, that white glue that you smeer all over your paper when you are in kindergarden and then sprinkle glitter all over to spell your name or make a heart. Anyway, why is eating healthy on vacation so hard. I had mastered making a shake in the morning, planning out little healthy meals for lunch. Working out for just one hour a day wasn't to bad. When you are on vacation you sleep two hours longer, your naps are two hours (hell the fact that I'm taking nap let's me know that I've been defeated). I can't even muster the "30 minute" walk that I planned for worst case scenario. Today my diet consisted of 2 sausages (German delight), 4-5 glasses of wine (I can't remember), two dark ass beers of some sort, and salad. Just like Richard Simmons described it. Oh well, I had fun. I have the next half of year to get back on track.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Well, there is definitely something to be said about making something memorable. CNN.com recently covered a story on a PSA that was just released featuring, politely put, a well-endowed female. Critics are saying the message is far too titilating, but I say it is perfect. What do you think?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Vitamin D (as in "Dang it is good for you")
The other day at work, I was sitting at the nurses station doing some notes, and my coworker and I got into a conversation about vitamins. Of note, I have only recently begun taking vitamins, and at times (more often than not), I forget to pop one in my mouth before bed. Don't get me wrong, I think vitamins are great, but I have to be very particular about when and how I take my vitamins (secondary to instant nausea if taken without food on my stomach). Therefore, it sometimes seems like an inconvenience. Anyway, my coworker was telling me that she is a big believer in vitamin D supplementation. Apparently, many Americans are deficient in that particular vitamin. So after doing a little research on the topic, I ran across an interesting article about the benefits of vitamin D and some recipes to make it applicable.
http://www.myrecipes.com/recipes/article/0,28747,1918441,00.html?xid=cnn-091509
Three Fruit Yogurt Shake
Makes 5 cups
2 cups low-fat vanilla yogurt
1 cup fresh blueberries, frozen
1 cup fresh peach slices, frozen
1 (8-ounce) can unsweetened pineapple chunks, drained and frozen
Process all ingredients in a blender until smooth, stopping to scrape down sides. Serve immediately
So raise your creamy, fruity filled goblets and toast to vitamins and all their goodness!
http://www.myrecipes.com/recipes/article/0,28747,1918441,00.html?xid=cnn-091509
Three Fruit Yogurt Shake
Makes 5 cups
2 cups low-fat vanilla yogurt
1 cup fresh blueberries, frozen
1 cup fresh peach slices, frozen
1 (8-ounce) can unsweetened pineapple chunks, drained and frozen
Process all ingredients in a blender until smooth, stopping to scrape down sides. Serve immediately
So raise your creamy, fruity filled goblets and toast to vitamins and all their goodness!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Cancer
Today, I walked down hallway 42 at Shands UF. To people who know the hospital, this is the "cancer unit" or bone marrow transplant unit. unit. And I got to thinking, brewing, steaming.
Cancer is my enemy. I don't have a lot of enemies, but I would say if cancer was a person, I would murder it. And it would be a slow, cruel death, like the ones in a Tarantino film. Three of my four grandparents had cancer. My Grandma Maryanna lost her breasts but finally beat the cancer and (in a cruel and cold way) died from ovarian cancer. My aunt spends her days in excrutiating pain secondary to the cancer that is attacking her bladder. My mom called the other night, and after all the pain she has held her sister's hand through, she just found out she has thyroid cancer. Cancer not only attacks your body, it wages war against the heart and soul and tries to drown families.
Walking down the cancer unit at Shands, you see the grayness of the disease. Broken smiles, and broken bodies. But every once in a while, a glimmer of hope peeks it's head out. "I am getting out of here tomorrow. And they say I am in the clear." I smile, I hope, I pray that it stays away. I want it to. I need it to. Leave forever.
Cancer is my enemy. I don't have a lot of enemies, but I would say if cancer was a person, I would murder it. And it would be a slow, cruel death, like the ones in a Tarantino film. Three of my four grandparents had cancer. My Grandma Maryanna lost her breasts but finally beat the cancer and (in a cruel and cold way) died from ovarian cancer. My aunt spends her days in excrutiating pain secondary to the cancer that is attacking her bladder. My mom called the other night, and after all the pain she has held her sister's hand through, she just found out she has thyroid cancer. Cancer not only attacks your body, it wages war against the heart and soul and tries to drown families.
Walking down the cancer unit at Shands, you see the grayness of the disease. Broken smiles, and broken bodies. But every once in a while, a glimmer of hope peeks it's head out. "I am getting out of here tomorrow. And they say I am in the clear." I smile, I hope, I pray that it stays away. I want it to. I need it to. Leave forever.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Be"friending" your doctor
Intersting article on CNN.com http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/09/03/friending.your.doctor/index.html It got me thinking about "messaging" my doctor. For me, there is a line that shouldn't be crossed. I don't want to see my doctor's beer drinking, late night outs, or high school memories. If we could only improve our communication system, we wouldn't need these social networking sites to get what we should have in the first place. Let me know what you think!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Go FISH!
Let's talk fishing. I have never read "The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing" by Melissa Bank, but I do know that fishing is under appreciated in the female world. All of us have those pictures, where we are around 7 or 8 years old and our dad's (typically wearing a Budweiser trucker cap and dip in his mouth) are holding up your first catfish catch. Then comes makeup and boys. Where does the outdoor passion go? The thrill of the fish hitting your line and the rush of fighting with your prey. I am on a mission to get girly girls to do more fishing. Let's be honest, it isn't the most challenging work out, but you are able to be out in nature (not in front of the TV watching the Food Network). An added bonus is that you can reap the rewards with dinner that night! That is my favorite part! So, get out and go FISH! Here is a fantastic and healthy recipe for your first catch. This is from BeachBody's P90X nutrition recipe book:
Mango-Ginger Sauce
1/2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Cup mango, peeled and cubed
1/2 Cup tomato, chopped
1-1/2 Tbsp fresh ginger, minced
1/4 Cup fresh lime juice
2 Tbsp orange juice
2 Tbsp dry sherry
1-1/2 Tbsp brown sugar
1-1/2 Tbsp white vinegar
Stir all ingredients together and chill. Serve over grilled or sauteed white fish.
Mango-Ginger Sauce
1/2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Cup mango, peeled and cubed
1/2 Cup tomato, chopped
1-1/2 Tbsp fresh ginger, minced
1/4 Cup fresh lime juice
2 Tbsp orange juice
2 Tbsp dry sherry
1-1/2 Tbsp brown sugar
1-1/2 Tbsp white vinegar
Stir all ingredients together and chill. Serve over grilled or sauteed white fish.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Health and Fitness
As the morning sun peaks its nose through my window, the dogs stretch their legs, my cat jumps on my stomach and my mind immediately starts thinking of the hundred and one things on the agenda today. Has you ever had that feeling? Many times I feel like my mind is a little mosquito, buzzing, swirling, whizzing around trying to find a place to land. With all the chaos surrounding my life, I sometimes dread workouts. How can I find the 30 minutes to drive to the gym, find a place between sweaty Fabios and drive 30 minutes home? I don't. I believe health and fitness is a lifestyle. It isn't pushing yourself to be miserable. It comes from the inside and plays out in every adventure you have and every bite you eat.
Over the next few months, this blog is going to focus on how to incorporate healthy living into a chaotic life. So let's get started!
Over the next few months, this blog is going to focus on how to incorporate healthy living into a chaotic life. So let's get started!
Monday, August 10, 2009
My search has not been in vain.
I found it. natetalleysucks.tumblr.com. Totally, utterly, urinely impressive.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Trois
This blog is about music, food and adventure. And I don't mean to make irrelevant comments a habit. Therefore, I will try to weave all three above topics into this totally b/s post. Here I go.
This post is going to consist of three stories, three people and three pointless, fleeting thoughts. Please try to stay with me.
1. Adventure: Here is the story the way I remember it: C Box has a friend. This friend goes by the name of Nate Taley. C and another friend come up with an ingenious prank and print stickers reading "Nate Talley Sucks". The idea is to post them as many places as possible, including, but not limited to: toilet bowls, bars and breasts.
2. Music: C Box has a friend. This friend is to remain nameless to protect those involved, but we shall call her Cantaloupes. Last night, Bo and I had a party. This party was rockin' thanks to C's musical mix playing on his iPhone. In between bites of barbecue and binges of beer, the iPhone ceases to play music for 2 seconds and beeps in with a message: from Cantaloupes-...omg I have been so horny today. The music made its way back on. Now from this event, it came to my knowledge that Cantaloupes had been convinced by C to post a "Nate Talley Sucks" sticker on one fake breast and leave the other to wave hello to everyone.
3. Food: After lunch (this is my half ass way of getting food in here), it is a lazy and rainy Sunday. Bo and I decided to take a nap. As is customary for us, Bo starts his twitching sleep about 3 seconds after his head hit the pillow. I can't fall asleep. So, to take up time and endulge my curiousity, I google "Nate Taley Sucks" to find this infamous picture of Cantaloupes' decorated breast. In the process, I run across one of C's friends who happens to be a journalist for the Wall Street Journal. His blog is fabulous. Really a good read.
All this to say go to reporterbyday.blogspot.com and enjoy.
Oh, I never found the picture.
This post is going to consist of three stories, three people and three pointless, fleeting thoughts. Please try to stay with me.
1. Adventure: Here is the story the way I remember it: C Box has a friend. This friend goes by the name of Nate Taley. C and another friend come up with an ingenious prank and print stickers reading "Nate Talley Sucks". The idea is to post them as many places as possible, including, but not limited to: toilet bowls, bars and breasts.
2. Music: C Box has a friend. This friend is to remain nameless to protect those involved, but we shall call her Cantaloupes. Last night, Bo and I had a party. This party was rockin' thanks to C's musical mix playing on his iPhone. In between bites of barbecue and binges of beer, the iPhone ceases to play music for 2 seconds and beeps in with a message: from Cantaloupes-...omg I have been so horny today. The music made its way back on. Now from this event, it came to my knowledge that Cantaloupes had been convinced by C to post a "Nate Talley Sucks" sticker on one fake breast and leave the other to wave hello to everyone.
3. Food: After lunch (this is my half ass way of getting food in here), it is a lazy and rainy Sunday. Bo and I decided to take a nap. As is customary for us, Bo starts his twitching sleep about 3 seconds after his head hit the pillow. I can't fall asleep. So, to take up time and endulge my curiousity, I google "Nate Taley Sucks" to find this infamous picture of Cantaloupes' decorated breast. In the process, I run across one of C's friends who happens to be a journalist for the Wall Street Journal. His blog is fabulous. Really a good read.
All this to say go to reporterbyday.blogspot.com and enjoy.
Oh, I never found the picture.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Who will I be at 75? How do I get there?
Since I work in the hospital, I see it all. Many people say that, but until you see someone stare death straight in the eye, it doesn't mean a whole lot.
And in the hospital, I see all ages, but what really interests me are the people who we refer to as "elderly." Some are happy, some are sad, some are hopeful, and some want to give up. There are few that have partners of 60 years and some with a new one of just two years. Some shine brightly and some don't have an ounce of life in their eyes. All of these encounters have led me to think...Where do I want to be when I am 75? Who do I want to be? What do I want to be? And how do I get there?
Many of you guys know more than me. Let's discuss this. Help me find out what and who you want to be. Give me advice.
And in the hospital, I see all ages, but what really interests me are the people who we refer to as "elderly." Some are happy, some are sad, some are hopeful, and some want to give up. There are few that have partners of 60 years and some with a new one of just two years. Some shine brightly and some don't have an ounce of life in their eyes. All of these encounters have led me to think...Where do I want to be when I am 75? Who do I want to be? What do I want to be? And how do I get there?
Many of you guys know more than me. Let's discuss this. Help me find out what and who you want to be. Give me advice.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Irish Brew
So, it has been one week back in the States...one week back to work...one week since my last Guinness. What is one to do? Browse through pics, reminisce with my hubby, or sneak to an Irish bar and try to find a pint?
Ireland held so many surprises. I was expecting the beautiful landscape. I knew there would be quiant villages, and I was looking forward to the burgeoning Irish cuisine. But one thing that was a pleasant (and by pleasant, I mean tipsy) surprise was the national brew, the Irish black gold...Guinness.
Let's be honest, one look at the creamy foam and silky black syrup, taking a sip is a must. But, the first time I tried the brew in the States, it was a bit...bitter. However, when we were in Ireland, I knew I had to give it a second chance. And oh how wrong I had been!!!
Here's how it unfolded.
Bo and I walk into a bar. It isn't just any bar. It is what one would imagine an Irish country side pub would look like. The server's outfit is pressed. He is wearing a vest and handles the glassware and spirits with respect. It has been a long day of tourist trouncing for us, and we were a tad exhausted. We place elbows on the wooden counter and the server asks our pleasure. "Two pints of Guinness," Bo says. I look at him, questioning his choice. We waited 15 minutes (this is proper pouring technique, 3/4 full, let it settle, and then finish the job). Finally the stout took its place in our waiting hands. A sip, a gulp. And a foamed stained smile crept on my face. Pure heaven!! Two Guinnesses a day for seven days and three pounds later, I have decided Ireland will be the only place I endulge.
Ireland...go, drink, and be merry. Cheers!
Ireland held so many surprises. I was expecting the beautiful landscape. I knew there would be quiant villages, and I was looking forward to the burgeoning Irish cuisine. But one thing that was a pleasant (and by pleasant, I mean tipsy) surprise was the national brew, the Irish black gold...Guinness.
Let's be honest, one look at the creamy foam and silky black syrup, taking a sip is a must. But, the first time I tried the brew in the States, it was a bit...bitter. However, when we were in Ireland, I knew I had to give it a second chance. And oh how wrong I had been!!!
Here's how it unfolded.
Bo and I walk into a bar. It isn't just any bar. It is what one would imagine an Irish country side pub would look like. The server's outfit is pressed. He is wearing a vest and handles the glassware and spirits with respect. It has been a long day of tourist trouncing for us, and we were a tad exhausted. We place elbows on the wooden counter and the server asks our pleasure. "Two pints of Guinness," Bo says. I look at him, questioning his choice. We waited 15 minutes (this is proper pouring technique, 3/4 full, let it settle, and then finish the job). Finally the stout took its place in our waiting hands. A sip, a gulp. And a foamed stained smile crept on my face. Pure heaven!! Two Guinnesses a day for seven days and three pounds later, I have decided Ireland will be the only place I endulge.
Ireland...go, drink, and be merry. Cheers!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Ireland
Just got back from Ireland. What a beautiful place. 5 out of 7 days of pure sunshine was not at all what we expected (neither did the locals). With our sweaters and the luck of the Irish on our sides, we explored most of Southwest Ireland from the Burren to Kinsale. Our Ford Focus burned the roads, leaving no rock unturned, no castle unexplored, and no roadside brick wall unscathed.From our homebase in Adare (http://www.adaremanor.com/) we explored Adare, Blarney, and Muckross Castles (bypassing the kissing of the Blarney Stone) and drove past Bunratty Castel numerous times. We traversed the wide and straight roads of the Ring of Kerry. We hiked the rugged terrain of the Cliffs of Moher and The Burren. We fished the treacherous waters of the River Maigue.
After much peer pressure, I eventually gave into the urge to drink the popular dry stout brew that made Guinness famous (in my history book). Guinness is made to be enjoyed in Ireland (and only Ireland). They send the spoils to the United States.
Shelby is going to post a full report of the trip plus some fancy web designing that she recenlty learned in class. Stay tuned.....
Friday, May 29, 2009
Inspiration
Since most of my reading comes while sitting in a 4x6 foot room with a shower, faucet, and a toilet, I hardley ever finish (or start) a significant piece of work. In my first attempt at real reading outside of Texas Montly and the various cooking magazines that my wife has stored away on the back of the latrene, Three Cups of Tea describes how Greg Mortenson's failed attempt to climb the the second highest mountain in the world (K2) lead him to his real quest in life. Set in Pakistan, a place that most of us only know by what we have seen on TV or read in the newspaper, Mortenson is resqued by a local porter and ends up in a small village that helps to nurse him back to health. Through his experience in the village and the constant care of the local tribe, he lays out a plan to return and build a school for the children (mainly the girls). His adventure turns into a life long goal of providing primary education for Pakistani and Afghan children, made possible by Mortenson's hard work and a few generous people along the way.To complete a book like this at my stage of life was a miracle no doubt. The fact is you cant put it down (and I was working nights). If you feel compelled to give this book a whirl, I recommend purchasing the book via the official website (http://www.threecupsoftea.com/) and 7% of the total goes to the organization that made his works possible.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
A morning at Gainesville's newest hotspot
On Saturday morning, the wait time to get into the Flying Biscuit Café was roughly one and a half cups of coffee.
That was about how many helpings of the free, fresh brew customers were able to sip through before their buzzer started vibrating, notifying them a table was ready.
“We are full to the gills,” Annie Boucher, one of the managers, yelled to a hostess. “There’s not an open table in the house.”
To appease hungry customers, the restaurant set up a temporary coffee table. It was stocked with two carafes labeled decaf and regular, a mound of creamer and a heap of sugar packets that were all lying on a neon-colored, floral tablecloth.
After smelling the fresh biscuits, even a long wait time could not divert patrons.
“The weekend wait got up to an hour,” manager Ernest Milian said, “and it has been about 20 minutes on the weekdays.”
The Atlanta-based Flying Biscuit Café officially opened in Gainesville on April 14. However, the weekend crowd ended the week on a hot note. Hot coffee, hot biscuits and hot sausage were all flying out of the kitchen at a furious pace.
“The oatmeal pancakes were voted number one in America by AOL,” server Brenda Lee said enthusiastically.
She was able to spout off the menu like it was her favorite poem.
The eager patrons outside had to wait their turn to be the judge of what goods the café had to offer.
The group was a conglomeration of old and young. Drowsy college students with their hair still disheveled from a deep sleep stood in silence trying to wake up, while the perfectly coiffed older couples patiently waited their turn. Bright-eyed children were buzzing around, and their parents tried to keep an eye on them. There was even a dog calmly sitting by his owner’s feet.
The organized chaos ran up and down the shopping mall. Patrons of the café were weaving in and out of the surrounding businesses, including Dorn’s Liquors and The Fresh Market.
“Our buzzers work from one end of the shopping plaza to the other end,” the hostess said with a smile.
Dorn’s Liquors has noticed an increase in onlookers since the Flying Biscuit opened. With coffee in hand, patrons sashay into Dorn’s and sample the wine of the day.
“A lot of their customers have come through here,” Brent Thomas, a Dorn’s employee, said, “but we have not noticed an increase in sales. They usually just want to taste the wine, but I can’t imagine coffee and wine mix well.”
Dorn’s has booked extra staff to work on the weekends and handle the increased number of spectators and wine tasters.
University of Florida student Kelly Donovan said she will keep coming back for the “not fried” fried green tomatoes.
“They are so good,” she said. “They are topped with goat cheese and have some sort of spice sprinkled on them.”
She is not the only one. Michele Hughes has been anticipating the cheese grits for a while.
“They came into Moe’s restaurant a while ago and served the grits,” she said. “They were amazing, and I have been waiting to eat here ever since.”
With a pen nestled behind her ear in spiky, blond hair and another in her hand, Brenda Lee is ready to take anyone’s order. With a rhyme that would even make Shakespeare hungry, she calls the café’s grits “dreamy and creamy.”
That was about how many helpings of the free, fresh brew customers were able to sip through before their buzzer started vibrating, notifying them a table was ready.
“We are full to the gills,” Annie Boucher, one of the managers, yelled to a hostess. “There’s not an open table in the house.”
To appease hungry customers, the restaurant set up a temporary coffee table. It was stocked with two carafes labeled decaf and regular, a mound of creamer and a heap of sugar packets that were all lying on a neon-colored, floral tablecloth.
After smelling the fresh biscuits, even a long wait time could not divert patrons.
“The weekend wait got up to an hour,” manager Ernest Milian said, “and it has been about 20 minutes on the weekdays.”
The Atlanta-based Flying Biscuit Café officially opened in Gainesville on April 14. However, the weekend crowd ended the week on a hot note. Hot coffee, hot biscuits and hot sausage were all flying out of the kitchen at a furious pace.
“The oatmeal pancakes were voted number one in America by AOL,” server Brenda Lee said enthusiastically.
She was able to spout off the menu like it was her favorite poem.
The eager patrons outside had to wait their turn to be the judge of what goods the café had to offer.
The group was a conglomeration of old and young. Drowsy college students with their hair still disheveled from a deep sleep stood in silence trying to wake up, while the perfectly coiffed older couples patiently waited their turn. Bright-eyed children were buzzing around, and their parents tried to keep an eye on them. There was even a dog calmly sitting by his owner’s feet.
The organized chaos ran up and down the shopping mall. Patrons of the café were weaving in and out of the surrounding businesses, including Dorn’s Liquors and The Fresh Market.
“Our buzzers work from one end of the shopping plaza to the other end,” the hostess said with a smile.
Dorn’s Liquors has noticed an increase in onlookers since the Flying Biscuit opened. With coffee in hand, patrons sashay into Dorn’s and sample the wine of the day.
“A lot of their customers have come through here,” Brent Thomas, a Dorn’s employee, said, “but we have not noticed an increase in sales. They usually just want to taste the wine, but I can’t imagine coffee and wine mix well.”
Dorn’s has booked extra staff to work on the weekends and handle the increased number of spectators and wine tasters.
University of Florida student Kelly Donovan said she will keep coming back for the “not fried” fried green tomatoes.
“They are so good,” she said. “They are topped with goat cheese and have some sort of spice sprinkled on them.”
She is not the only one. Michele Hughes has been anticipating the cheese grits for a while.
“They came into Moe’s restaurant a while ago and served the grits,” she said. “They were amazing, and I have been waiting to eat here ever since.”
With a pen nestled behind her ear in spiky, blond hair and another in her hand, Brenda Lee is ready to take anyone’s order. With a rhyme that would even make Shakespeare hungry, she calls the café’s grits “dreamy and creamy.”
Friday, March 20, 2009
Good Texas Lovin' Music
Bo and I miss Texas. Like we REALLY miss Texas. We pretty much throw a pity party for ourselves every once in a while, and we have found the perfect soundtrack to our shindig in Ryan Bingham. You can get lost in the slide guitar, and as soon as you think it can't get any better, he drops a little fiddle in. "If you are gonna play in Texas, ya gotta have a fiddle in the band!" per Alabama. Give him a listen and tell us what you think!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
BEST PARTY TRICK EVER!
Bo and I have little time to spend with friends these days, but when we do, we just love to toast and talk with Bridger. Not only does Bridger make a mean grilled pork tenderloin (with chimichurri sauce and asparagus! Killer!), but he also showed us the best party trick ever! It involves a Samuri sword and a bottle of champagne (can you beat that?).
Here are the rules:
1. You must have a big sword (please remove your mind from the gutter)
2. Place a champagne bottle upside down in ice water for twenty minutes.
3. Remove from water and dry off
4. Line your sword up with the seam on the bottle's neck
5. Swiftly draw the sword up the neck of the bottle to hit the seam
6. And wham...you are now cool.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
When the weather starts to warm up, I feel like I am a bear coming out of her cave from a long winters nap. I don't know about you guys, but through the winter months, I am what people refer to as a "party pooper". However, the other day, the sun started shining, the birds a' singing, and a little bloom appeared on the oak tree in the front yard.
With all the excitement, I felt like I needed a little celebration, so I invited my girlfriends over and had a brunch. It was a success!
When throwing a party, it is pertinent to plan ahead!!! I had almost all the recipes prepared to simply stick in the oven, coffee was in the coffee maker ready to be turned on (like me), and all the plates/cups/serving dishes on the table. I used my Sitti's (grandmother) antique blue and gold "King Tut" china, and I always try to serve on white dishes. It makes the food pop. Always end with a nice bouquet of fresh flowers, they just make everything a little prettier!
Here are some of the recipes I served:
Hashed Browns
Ingredients
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 pounds boiling potatoes, peeled and 1/2-inch diced
1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onions (2 onions)
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons minced scallions (white and green parts)
Directions
Melt the butter in a large (10 to 12-inch) sauté pan. Add the potatoes, onions, salt, and pepper and cook over medium-low heat for 15 to 20 minutes, turning occasionally with a flat spatula, until the potatoes are evenly browned and cooked through. (Allow the potatoes to cook for 5 minutes before turning.) Turn off the heat and add the parsley and scallions. Serve hot.
Ingredients
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 pounds boiling potatoes, peeled and 1/2-inch diced
1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onions (2 onions)
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons minced scallions (white and green parts)
Directions
Melt the butter in a large (10 to 12-inch) sauté pan. Add the potatoes, onions, salt, and pepper and cook over medium-low heat for 15 to 20 minutes, turning occasionally with a flat spatula, until the potatoes are evenly browned and cooked through. (Allow the potatoes to cook for 5 minutes before turning.) Turn off the heat and add the parsley and scallions. Serve hot.
Sausage and Cheddar Cheese Strata
1 ½ lbs. ground breakfast sausage (12 oz. of hot, 12 oz. of regular)
4 eggs, beaten
2 ½ cups half and half
1 tsp dried sage
¾ tsp kosher salt
¼ tsp freshly ground pepper
6 potato bread or other soft white bread slices, crusts removed
2 Cups (6 oz.) grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese
2 Tbls chopped fresh chives, flat-leaf parsley, or green onion, both white and green parts
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9-by-13-by-2-inch baking dish.
Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Put the sausage in the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is thoroughly browned, 5 to 7 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the sausage to a paper towel-lined plate to drain.
Whisk together the eggs, half-and-half, sage, kosher salt, and pepper in a medium bowl. Layer the bread in the prepared baking dish and top with sausage. Pour the egg mixture over the sausage and top with the cheese. Bake until the strata is set in the middle, about 30 minutes. Do not overcook. Let cool for 15 to 20 minutes. Garnish with the chives just before serving.
Enjoy!
1 ½ lbs. ground breakfast sausage (12 oz. of hot, 12 oz. of regular)
4 eggs, beaten
2 ½ cups half and half
1 tsp dried sage
¾ tsp kosher salt
¼ tsp freshly ground pepper
6 potato bread or other soft white bread slices, crusts removed
2 Cups (6 oz.) grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese
2 Tbls chopped fresh chives, flat-leaf parsley, or green onion, both white and green parts
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9-by-13-by-2-inch baking dish.
Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Put the sausage in the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is thoroughly browned, 5 to 7 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the sausage to a paper towel-lined plate to drain.
Whisk together the eggs, half-and-half, sage, kosher salt, and pepper in a medium bowl. Layer the bread in the prepared baking dish and top with sausage. Pour the egg mixture over the sausage and top with the cheese. Bake until the strata is set in the middle, about 30 minutes. Do not overcook. Let cool for 15 to 20 minutes. Garnish with the chives just before serving.
Enjoy!
Blueberry Coffee Cake Muffins
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
8 ounces (about 1 cup) sour cream
1/4 cup milk
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 half-pints fresh blueberries, picked through for stems
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Place 16 paper liners in muffin pans.
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. With the mixer on low speed, add the eggs 1 at a time, then add the vanilla, sour cream, and milk. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. With the mixer on low speed add the flour mixture to the batter and beat until just mixed. Fold in the blueberries with a spatula and be sure the batter is completely mixed.
Scoop the batter into the prepared muffin pans, filling each cup just over the top, and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the muffins are lightly browned on top and a cake tester comes out clean.
Fruit with Honey Yogurt Sauce
2 cups plain yogurt
2 tablespoons good honey
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Seeds scraped from 1/2 vanilla bean, optional
1/2 orange, juiced
1 banana, sliced
1/2 pint fresh blueberries
1/2 pint fresh raspberries
1 pint fresh strawberries, hulled and cut in half
1 bunch seedless green grapes, halved
Crushded walnuts for topping (optional)
Combine the yogurt, honey, vanilla extract, and vanilla bean seeds in a bowl and set aside. Combine the orange juice and banana slices in a separate bowl. Add the berries and grapes and gently mix the fruit mixture together. Spoon the fruit into serving bowls and top with the yogurt.
Monday, March 2, 2009
A man wants his...chicken?!
Yesterday, after weeks (possibly months) of promising ourselves that we would be more healthy, Bo asked me to grill several chicken breasts so we could make quick, healthy meals this week. The problems is I am not the most creative person when it comes to chicken recipes. The other thing is I hate the taste of reheated chicken. Therefore, I am in a bit of a pickle. I thought you guys might be able to help me with some recipe ideas. I will post one, and if a brilliant idea comes to your mind, post it on the comment link. My husband would greatly appreciate it!
Chicken Salad in Avocado Cup
Ingredients
1 cup diced cooked chicken breast
2 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon chopped orange zest
1 tablespoon chopped shallots
1 tablespoon chopped fresh red pepper
1 teaspoon chopped fresh chives
Salt and pepper
1 ripe avocado, halved, pit removed, and peeled
Directions
In a bowl combine the first five ingredients. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide the salad between the two avocado halves, filling the cavity.
Chicken Salad in Avocado Cup
Ingredients
1 cup diced cooked chicken breast
2 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon chopped orange zest
1 tablespoon chopped shallots
1 tablespoon chopped fresh red pepper
1 teaspoon chopped fresh chives
Salt and pepper
1 ripe avocado, halved, pit removed, and peeled
Directions
In a bowl combine the first five ingredients. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide the salad between the two avocado halves, filling the cavity.
Hurricane Ike
Annie Neichoy and her family had to make a decision. Authorities were recommending, no they were mandating, residents of Houston and Galveston counties evacuate. Hurricane Ike was looming in the Gulf of Mexico and the outlook declared the storm to be full of destruction. The strength of the storm paralleled the swell of fear that was growing among the residents of High Island, TX.
The most eastern part of the Bolivar Peninsula, High Island is one of the forgotten towns of rural southeast Texas. With only five hundred inhabitants, High Island struggles to maintain a township, but the strength and steadiness of a town that has fought and survived numerous hurricanes shines through with resilience. This is a sleepy town whose only companion and adversary seems to be the roar and unpredictability of the ocean. The town rests on top of a salt dome. With an elevation of thirty-eight feet above sea level, it is deemed the highest piece of land from Mobile, AL to the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. As grand as this account of the small town seems, the residents are all but neglected by the county they are a part of.
As Annie watched TV on Friday night, the evening’s news forecasted a gloomy day to come for Galveston County. The National Hurricane Center reported the tidal surge of the hurricane to be the worst in one hundred years. Warnings were put out that much would be lost. Annie was forced to turn off the television. She had heard enough, and the time to escape had already passed her by. All day long, Annie had been witness to the torture of trees, with the wind gusting and whipping limbs from side to side until defeat seemed inevitable. The wind was making way for the storm. Annie was making her way into the kitchen.
On the refrigerator hung pictures of laughing children, evidence of pride (her son was the first to graduate from college and then went on to medical school), and a fragmented conglomeration of alphabet magnets. Annie laughed at the thought of her doctor son warning her against Coke before bed, but as routine, she filled her NASCAR cup to the brim with syrupy concoction. As she walked down the hallway, Annie was suddenly struck by the loneliness of her situation. Her nightly ritual of kissing her two grandkids, Laynee and Drake, goodnight had been interrupted by a stranger named Ike; anger and resentment surged. As she passed their room, Annie could only think of the fate of their little town, her little town. She and her husband Benny had made the tough decision to ride out the storm. Benny’s son Justin evacuated the day before, taking his two kids and a couple gallons of gas in case there were shortages along the trip. She finally reached her bedroom, and as she crawled into bed, Annie could sense Benny’s apprehension. Her husband had always retired for the night hours before she did, however, the usual hum of Benny’s restful breathing had been replaced by silence. Even though thoughts were racing through her head, there was no need for words. They laid by each others side, not knowing what tomorrow was to bring, only that they would face it together.
Around five thirty Saturday morning, the couple woke up to a crash. As they rushed into their living room, they were met by rain drops invading their house. The electricity had been off for several hours, but Benny had prepared and grasped a flashlight in hand. As they cautiously turned the corner, the culprit was revealed. A patio door had been shattered and now glass shards were scattered across the floor. Grabbing some of the plywood left over from tacking up
windows, the couple forced the door shut and held it up until light peeked through at seven thirty.
It was time to survey the damage. As Annie and Benny stepped out of their shelter, they found their next door neighbor’s house had succumbed to the winds and split in half. This scene was the opening act for the destruction that was to follow. Walking down the street, they slowly realized their little town would never be the same. Houses were swept away, and what remained of some was only worth tearing down. Annie checked on her ex-husband’s newly remodeled house, “that barn that he is trying to turn into a mansion”, and as fate would have it, the water had only made it to the back steps and stopped. The fruit stand across the street that had been a land mark for so many years had been replaced by a fallen oil pumping unit that had travelled at least a mile, and it was lying like a fish that had gone belly up. Benny’s breakfast crony, Skip Hamilton, had moved his cows to the east pasture, which had historically received the least damage. Hurricane Ike was not like other storms, and the farmer’s bloated cattle
floated into the streets.
Of the five hundred residents of High Island, eight fighters stood side by side with the land that had enriched their lives and fought the storm. As the eight were finishing up their survey, Annie asked them in, as any southern woman would do in time of crisis, for a pot of fresh coffee. A grateful Mr. Bennett offered her five dollars for the cup of hot, black brew. Annie wouldn’t hear of it; they were in this together. Silence started the conversation, and then it slowly evolved into the changes that would come and the steps that should be taken to start the rebuilding process.
High Island is more than just a community. It is a gathering of people whose way of life matches that of the tide, softly being taken in and out, predicted only by events out of their control. “They will forget about us” Annie said, holding a glass of copper colored tea. “They said they might be comin’ down here to give us those typhoid shots. Is that what ya call ‘em, typhoid?” Her voice trailed off. You could hear the hurt and uncertainty in her words. “We actually have it pretty good. We have survivors, and we have each other. The rumor is the preacher from Gilcrist is dead on the beach, along with seven others. The officials won’t let us out, because they don’t want us to see the bodies.”
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy 2009!
Bo is on nights. Nights suck. For example, we kissed each other goodbye Monday morning and didn't see anymore of one another until Wednesday night, which was only for about 1 hour. So, needless to say, I miss my hubby. And especially around the holiday season! For those of you who may live under a rock, yesterday was New Year's Eve. I have always loved New Year's Day, but the Eve has erked me. It is one of those times where you feel like you MUST have something to do, right? Not only must you have something to do, but it must be wild and crazy fun. If not, you must not be part of the cool crowd. However, if the world must have an excuse to kiss a crush at the stroke of midnight, I suppose I can be in favor of that.
Another reason I am just a little bitter toward New Year's this time, is that I miss my momma's food. At the beginning of every year, mom would make a gigantic feast that featured fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, black eyed peas, a fresh green salad, and some sort of sinful dessert such as cobbler or pie. Yesterday, my mouth started watering for the big, greasy, luxurious mess. So, I decided to surprise Bo and make that whole meal. He was sleeping most of the day (because it is his night), and flour scattering everywhere, I battered until I was blue. Black eyed peas? With a little onion soup mix and pepper vinegar. Mashed potatoes? Smothered with gravy. AND! I tried my hand at mustard greens! (They are going to need a little work, but Bo acted like they tasted just like Nana's!)
I wish I had a picture. We finished it all off with a slice of apple pie and a glass of sparkling grape juice in our toasting glasses, and a smile crept on my face. It was classic Bo and Shelby.
It is the end of a wonderfully challenging year filled with love and adventure. It is the beginning of a new year, certainly filled with surprises.
I am so lucky to have family like I do. I realize I don't deserve what has been given to me, and I hope to never take it for granted. May you be blessed this year and may you bless those around you! Peace and Love- Shelby Ann
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