<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068</id><updated>2011-07-22T08:33:32.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cooking Mama</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-8393812885895977052</id><published>2007-09-20T17:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T18:01:42.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Baby Makes 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvMXefIMPYI/AAAAAAAAAK0/Q9_GYTdYr6c/s1600-h/20070919+-+Ruby+3+month.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvMXefIMPYI/AAAAAAAAAK0/Q9_GYTdYr6c/s400/20070919+-+Ruby+3+month.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112455814515015042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pretty good month for Ruby.  She learned to babble and stick out her tongue.  Looks like a Thighmaster "Before" picture too as she fattens up.  She's wearing 6-9 months clothes now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-8393812885895977052?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/8393812885895977052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=8393812885895977052' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8393812885895977052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8393812885895977052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/09/and-baby-makes-3.html' title='And Baby Makes 3'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvMXefIMPYI/AAAAAAAAAK0/Q9_GYTdYr6c/s72-c/20070919+-+Ruby+3+month.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-4326358528977828139</id><published>2007-09-19T17:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:30:40.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Upstaged</title><content type='html'>I promise real pictures of the new house once we close and get moved in. Let me get past the inherent panic one feels over a big purchase, then maybe I can write about it. One thing I can write about and is oddly fun is the process of getting my house ready to sell. Each of you pause and look around your house. Look at it as a potential buyer instead of a homeowner. It is bizarre. If I look at my house normally, I see the day to day work I need to do. Wipe the floor, dust the shelves, put away dishes. If I look at it as a buyer, I see worn door nobs, scratched kitchen cabinets... a whole new array of work. Argh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we get ready to put our house on the market, our realtor advises us to "stage" the house if possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a nice definition of staging a house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Home staging (British English: House doctoring) is the act of preparing a private residence prior to going up for sale in the real estate marketplace. The goal of staging is to sell a home quickly, and for the most money possible by attracting the most amount of potential buyers. Staging focuses on improving a property to make it appeal to the largest amount of buyers by transforming it into a welcoming, appealing, and attractive product for sale. Staging often raises the value of a property by way of reducing the home's flaws, depersonalizing, decluttering, cleaning, improving condition items, and landscaping. For vacant homes, rental furniture is used to create a living space the buyer could "see" themselves in. Properly executed staging leads the eye to attractive features while minimizing flaws.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvHMfI_OAmI/AAAAAAAAAKs/67nIaD2dLZk/s1600-h/20070919+-+staging.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvHMfI_OAmI/AAAAAAAAAKs/67nIaD2dLZk/s400/20070919+-+staging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112091887402877538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, staging is the process of making a home look like that guy from 'Sleeping with the Enemy' lives there. Why this makes a house more appealing, I cannot say. Do potential buyers see an unfurnished house and find it unbelievable that furniture could go there? Or do they perhaps wallow in confusion over what the purpose of a room is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potential Buyer: Honey I just don't know about this house.&lt;br /&gt;Buyer wife: I agree. Our couch would never fit in this room with the sinks and the toilet. How could we possibly live here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the only argument that holds water is if someone is that OCD about every little thing, they must have taken excellent care of the house. The interesting line to walk is leaving enough stuff that it actually looks like someone is living there. Well, regardless, its a tough market and if having a few pieces of furniture around help sell it, great. Jamey and I can live with a bed and a couch for awhile. We will be moving Ruby's furniture. I haven't decided what to do with that room yet that would be believable and wouldn't require me purchasing anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potential Buyer: Look at this room! Let's get this house.&lt;br /&gt;Buyer wife: I agree. I've always wanted my very own Tupperware Display room!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-4326358528977828139?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/4326358528977828139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=4326358528977828139' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4326358528977828139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4326358528977828139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/09/upstaged.html' title='Upstaged'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RvHMfI_OAmI/AAAAAAAAAKs/67nIaD2dLZk/s72-c/20070919+-+staging.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-9039577585161405486</id><published>2007-09-06T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T18:58:45.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoody Towel of August - late again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RuCv4zpG9gI/AAAAAAAAAKc/v-JFBV7qGG4/s1600-h/20070831+-+ruby+frog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RuCv4zpG9gI/AAAAAAAAAKc/v-JFBV7qGG4/s400/20070831+-+ruby+frog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107275367908308482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DID take this picture in August, but am just now able to make a post. We have an offer out on a house (more on that later) and if it goes through, I will probably not have many posts this month. However, I hate to leave my adoring fans with no odd baby photos, so here is Ruby pretending to be a frog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RuCv5DpG9hI/AAAAAAAAAKk/6uvjAUph9Mk/s1600-h/20070831+-+ruby+towel+june.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RuCv5DpG9hI/AAAAAAAAAKk/6uvjAUph9Mk/s400/20070831+-+ruby+towel+june.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107275372203275794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, her daycare has a curriculum each week. This week is learning about ducks. I sure hope next week is something more useful like learning to sleep through the night. Ruby has regressed and my sanity has suffered!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-9039577585161405486?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/9039577585161405486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=9039577585161405486' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/9039577585161405486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/9039577585161405486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/09/hoody-towel-of-august-late-again.html' title='Hoody Towel of August - late again!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RuCv4zpG9gI/AAAAAAAAAKc/v-JFBV7qGG4/s72-c/20070831+-+ruby+frog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-6454244358030157085</id><published>2007-08-24T18:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T18:12:11.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Crib is Rockin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rs-B5TpG9fI/AAAAAAAAAKU/CIyQVxvxjnY/s1600-h/20070823+-+ruby+gangsta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rs-B5TpG9fI/AAAAAAAAAKU/CIyQVxvxjnY/s400/20070823+-+ruby+gangsta.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102439724359284210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby had her first cold!  Daddy stayed home with her and decided she needed a hat for her fever.  When I came home at lunch, I took a picture of my gangsta baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-6454244358030157085?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/6454244358030157085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=6454244358030157085' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/6454244358030157085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/6454244358030157085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-crib-is-rockin.html' title='My Crib is Rockin&apos;'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rs-B5TpG9fI/AAAAAAAAAKU/CIyQVxvxjnY/s72-c/20070823+-+ruby+gangsta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-3581336158048188785</id><published>2007-08-22T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T08:18:09.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Next Month, Calculus!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RszdcDpG9eI/AAAAAAAAAKM/9Abb2Y8SBwQ/s1600-h/20070822+-+Ruby+2+months.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RszdcDpG9eI/AAAAAAAAAKM/9Abb2Y8SBwQ/s400/20070822+-+Ruby+2+months.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101695951987733986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month Ruby learned to smile, laugh, move her hand to her mouth and bat at items. She slept through the night more often than not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An interesting fact, at this point, babies have no concept of object permanence. If you hide an object under a blanket, they won't look for it because, once out of view, it ceases to exist. Having said that, Ruby cares not at all when I cease to exist after dropping her off at daycare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-3581336158048188785?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/3581336158048188785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=3581336158048188785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3581336158048188785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3581336158048188785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/next-month-calculus.html' title='Next Month, Calculus!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RszdcDpG9eI/AAAAAAAAAKM/9Abb2Y8SBwQ/s72-c/20070822+-+Ruby+2+months.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-4714959146962783795</id><published>2007-08-20T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T05:11:48.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Whats for Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6HDpG9cI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-Xw1UVHufnE/s1600-h/20070808+-+dinner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6HDpG9cI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-Xw1UVHufnE/s320/20070808+-+dinner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100953420861732290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered why Bumbo was talked about by all the recent parents we met until Ruby started using it. We put her in it probably too soon, but she didn't mind. Since Ruby is not a fan of swings, it was hard to find something for her to do while we eat dinner. We stuck her in the Bumbo and she loved it, therefore earning us dinnertime peace. There isn't really anything for her to do in it, so I'm not sure I understand its appeal. Still, I'm not going to argue its success.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6ATpG9bI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/hxwmlmtv-Kg/s1600-h/20070808+-+Ruby+Bumbo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6ATpG9bI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/hxwmlmtv-Kg/s400/20070808+-+Ruby+Bumbo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100953304897615282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6ODpG9dI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Y4JPPBZSTC8/s1600-h/20070808+-+jamey+bumbo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6ODpG9dI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Y4JPPBZSTC8/s320/20070808+-+jamey+bumbo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100953541120816594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After Ruby outgrows it, what can we use it for?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-4714959146962783795?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/4714959146962783795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=4714959146962783795' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4714959146962783795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4714959146962783795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-wondered-why-bumbo-was-talked-about.html' title='Its Whats for Dinner'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rso6HDpG9cI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/-Xw1UVHufnE/s72-c/20070808+-+dinner.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-8478539251891019576</id><published>2007-08-17T18:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T19:17:04.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A realtor, a mother-in-law and tree rat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsZTgTpG9ZI/AAAAAAAAAJk/GdROz11mDCM/s1600-h/20070811+-+Alyssa+and+Ruby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsZTgTpG9ZI/AAAAAAAAAJk/GdROz11mDCM/s400/20070811+-+Alyssa+and+Ruby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099855442537280914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A realtor, a mother-in-law and a almost dead baby squirrel...  Unfortunately, that's not the start of a joke, it was my Monday this week. I decided to invite my realtor over to look at my house. I want to sell it next year or so. I decided I would get her opinions on what improvements I need to make so I can start working on them. Ruby was hungry Sunday night, so I winded up getting up several times to feed her. I was so tired Monday morning, I decided I only needed 30 minutes to straiten up the house before she showed up at 10:00. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I dragged my lazy self out of bed and got Ruby fed, I placed her on her tummy time mat and started straitening the house. Picasso had been doing something annoying which I can't remember so I locked him outside. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a fire engine on my back porch. I opened the door and looked around for what was making the noise. Picasso ran in and I concluded it must have been him, but couldn't figure out why he had made such a crazy sound. As I put away some stuff downstairs I let out an undignified girly scream. A hairless baby squirrel was in the middle of my living room carpet. I'm no real estate expert but I can't imagine that is a plus when showing a house. I examined the squirrel and determined that Picasso's teeth marks were not life threatening but the squirrel must have fallen from the tree because it looked like it might have a broken leg and other injuries. Deciding that the mother squirrel is a much better squirrel doctor than myself, I picked up the creature with a plastic bag and started to take it outside when I heard Ruby screaming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running to the nursery holding a probably germ ridden baby squirrel, I noticed she had learned a new trick of scooting backward and had managed to wedge her head on a pillow she had been propped on. I immediately adopted a new parenting philosophy "If they cryin' they ain't dyin'" and continued on my way to take the baby squirrel outside. I placed it under a likely tree and ran inside to get Ruby and wash my hands (in opposite order). I grabbed Ruby and she immediately quit crying (that girl doesn't know how to hold a grudge) allowing me to hear the doorbell. Crap crap crap. The realtor is here and my house is a cluttered mess. Oh well, a bra on a dresser and some boardgames on the floor don't change a house price and perhaps improve it in some markets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realtor took my flustered appearance in stride as I babbled about a scary baby squirrel and not suffocating baby. She had very little we have to change. She advised painting our cabinets so they won't be white and painting our shower so it won't be gold. Interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were taking the tour, I hear the air conditioner quit working. 'sigh' In this heat (for those of you not in Bham, it's been over 100 degrees for a week now) the circuit trips occasionally. I try to tell realtor what I want in the next house while also thinking about the poor baby squirrel I need to check on and that I need to reset the air conditioner. While starting my kitchen requirements (very important I might add), there is a knock on the door. My mother-in-law is here unannounced (again) towing my 2 year old niece who has been promised she can hold baby Ruby. Since Ruby is asleep in the crib at this point I try nicely and not so nicely to kick them out, but they promise to stay out of the way and go to look at Ruby. My realtor leaves me to my company so I don't get to finish my bratty house list. Drat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not as nice as my realtor so I ignore my company and go check on the squirrel. The mama squirrel is at the base of the tree and runs back up. The baby squirrel is still there. I had left the baby squirrel on the plastic bag to keep it from ants. Maybe that frightened her or maybe she decided it s a goner. I take it off the plastic bag and leave it on some bark. I'll check on it after I kick out the visitors and restart the AC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One restarted AC and kicked out visitors later, I hop on instant messager and bemoan the baby squirrel's plight to my friend that we will call "Scary Mad Scientist (SMS)". Unfortunately, I didn't save the conversation but here is a gist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;SMS: Does it help if you think of it as a tree rat?&lt;br /&gt;me: uh, no.&lt;br /&gt;SMS: Well, it took me awhile to get used to killing them when I started this job.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, yes! I forget SMS is a monster who experiments on rats for very little money! Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;me: OK, How do I do it?&lt;br /&gt;SMS: Shovel to the neck.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SMS goes on to describe a mouse guillotine used at work that will give me nightmares. I head out to the newly dubbed tree rat, shovel in hand, heavy of heart. Will this help or hurt my karma? The squirrel is still there. Ants have started crawling on it. Time to do it in.  Wait! It's not breathing! Yippeee! Oh wait, curb inappropriate first response. I meant, oh the poor thing, it didn't make it. I shovel it into a bag and place it in our new garbage can. I really hope those garbage men think it looks like the one that got repoed because dirty diapers and a dead squirrel won't be pretty after a week or so. Hell, they aren't pretty now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I go back to work now? Please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-8478539251891019576?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/8478539251891019576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=8478539251891019576' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8478539251891019576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8478539251891019576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/realtor-mother-in-law-and-almost-dead.html' title='A realtor, a mother-in-law and tree rat'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsZTgTpG9ZI/AAAAAAAAAJk/GdROz11mDCM/s72-c/20070811+-+Alyssa+and+Ruby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-4284042497284182078</id><published>2007-08-16T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T20:40:06.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on Baby, Don't Fear the Repo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsUX9TpG9YI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Jim2tRGym58/s1600-h/20070811+-+David+bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsUX9TpG9YI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Jim2tRGym58/s320/20070811+-+David+bday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099508495079110018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday we were getting ready for my brother's 30th birthday party when Picasso barked at the window. After throwing him in time-out (our dogs get sophisticated punishments), we realized he had barked at some men running up our driveway to steal our trashcan. We watched helplessly as they drove off in a Budget Rent a Truck. After staring for a second in disbelief, I called my brother-in-law who is a cop and asked him what I should do if my garbage can was stolen. He decided I should report it since it could be a ring of identity thefts. We let Picasso out of time-out and told him he was a good boy. Now we have a really confused dog. I then jumped in my car and tried to find the truck but it was long gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called our local Sheriff who sent out a nice cute patrolman who liked our trashcan protecting dog. He explained that he had heard of missing trashcans before and couldn't remember the outcome but thought that the trash cans had not actually been stolen. I remembered that my &lt;a href="http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/hoody-towel-of-july.html"&gt;neighbor had been looking for a trash can&lt;/a&gt; a few weeks ago and walked next door to see what the outcome had been.&lt;br /&gt;My neighbor explained that he had chased down the garbage truck that day and found out they had accidentally dropped his trashcan into the truck. (I don't know why they didn't stop and tell him, but I would have liked to seen my seventy something year old neighbor face down the garbage man.) I mentioned our plight to the neighbors and they were discussing buying shredders for their mail when I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I came back to my house to tell the Sheriff, I saw that he had pulled over a Budget rent a truck on my street. That's good police work! He came back to the house and informed us (quite nicely) that the driver was a repo man and had written authorization to take our trashcan since we had not paid our trash bill. This might be a good time to point out that my husband is in charge of the bills and never even knows what day of the week it is.  I went next door and informed my neighbors that there was no need to run to Staples.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen and I promptly went to Lowe's and purchased a similar looking trashcan. They were fooled and took our trash that week. Jamey did, however, also send in the bill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-4284042497284182078?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/4284042497284182078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=4284042497284182078' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4284042497284182078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4284042497284182078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/come-on-baby-dont-fear-repo.html' title='Come on Baby, Don&apos;t Fear the Repo'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RsUX9TpG9YI/AAAAAAAAAJc/Jim2tRGym58/s72-c/20070811+-+David+bday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-2030708488379094137</id><published>2007-08-02T08:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:18:33.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rrsgd5RnoeI/AAAAAAAAAJU/CM3s-fTzEik/s1600-h/20070802+-+Ruby+smiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rrsgd5RnoeI/AAAAAAAAAJU/CM3s-fTzEik/s320/20070802+-+Ruby+smiles.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096703101262864866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby weighed in at 10.15 lbs.  She was 23.25 inches and her head was 15.25 inches.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Length = 95th percentile &lt;br /&gt;Weight = between 50th and 75th percentile &lt;br /&gt;Head Circumference = 75th percentile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this amazing considering how giant her head looks to me.  Then, I looked at daycares and saw some of those 95% head babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also got 4 shots and some oral vaccinations and was super good for them.  She yelled for shots 2-4, but stopped as soon as they were over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most important in her progress is that she has learned to smile!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-2030708488379094137?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/2030708488379094137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=2030708488379094137' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/2030708488379094137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/2030708488379094137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/08/ruby-weighed-in-at-10.html' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rrsgd5RnoeI/AAAAAAAAAJU/CM3s-fTzEik/s72-c/20070802+-+Ruby+smiles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-9107737472177463963</id><published>2007-07-31T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T06:56:48.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eat Your Corn Syrup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq8-epRnodI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eFoY8qFKd7w/s1600-h/20070716+-+Bill+bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq8-epRnodI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eFoY8qFKd7w/s320/20070716+-+Bill+bday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093358399776072146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby is, as I have probably mentioned in previous posts, an incredibly good natured baby. However, she has one issue that can turn her from an angelic cooing happy girl to a screaming hellion. In short, Ruby is the rootingist tootingist baby. The gas, which is simply entertaining when adults get it, is painful to infants. She will wake up from a sound sleep screaming and tooting. Our doctor recommended switching her formula to a lactose-free milk based version. My sister had mentioned that Good Start did best for all her children so I decided to try it first. There are no real firm directions on how to switch a baby's formula. The ever helpful can directions state "When switching formula, do it gradually." That is vague enough to bother my right brain. Does gradually mean mix it and the old formula in the same bottle or alternate bottles or what? Anyway, it was a moot point because even with half a bottle of it, she was miserable and screamed constantly instead of a little. Next, we tried Simolac Sensitive which is the lactose-free milk based version. She liked the taste so much better that it prompted me to read the ingredients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corn Syrup Solids, Sugar, Milk protein Isolate, Safflower oil, coconut oil, soy oil...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa! I am feeding my baby liquid sugar. All the online research I did and books declared that it is perfectly fine to feed infants this and there would be no developmental results. The vitamins are the same. Just for fun, I tasted both this formula and the regular Simolac. I agree the Sensitive was sweeter, but I don't think I would want to drink either. However, bottles are kind of fun to drink out of. Wouldn't that be a cool bar? It would make sure you didn't drink too much at once. On second thought, it reminds me of when pacifiers were in for Raves. never mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in the end, I don't care what its made of because she is so much better and since we switched she sleeps through the night fairly often.  It does cost a little more, but what price, happy baby?  Speaking of which, you always hear how expensive formula is.  I was ready to really shell out the dough.  However, it works out to about a dollar a bottle.  Considering I've thrown down $4 on a mocha from Starbucks, I have a hard time getting worked up over feeding my baby for less than $10 a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-9107737472177463963?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/9107737472177463963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=9107737472177463963' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/9107737472177463963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/9107737472177463963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/eat-your-corn-syrup.html' title='Eat Your Corn Syrup'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq8-epRnodI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eFoY8qFKd7w/s72-c/20070716+-+Bill+bday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-7139006840429173479</id><published>2007-07-30T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T07:29:53.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet the Real Rosalynn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq3zSZRnocI/AAAAAAAAAJE/_C88GXLCbzI/s1600-h/20070712+-+Mama+Bo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq3zSZRnocI/AAAAAAAAAJE/_C88GXLCbzI/s320/20070712+-+Mama+Bo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092994250973880770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, Ruby went to meet one of her namesakes, Rosalynn. Actually, Rosalynn has never used her name because her father wanted a boy. Therefore, he called her Boy. When she turned 13, he finally conceded that she was not going to be a boy and began calling her "Bo" which she was known as for the rest of her life. I would love to know what Bo's mother thought of all this. When I met Mama Bo, she was still sharp as a tack and told me a story of wanting to marry Jamey's grandfather. Jamey's grandfather proposed to Bo without asking her father's permission (I guess he thought he wouldn't get it.) Bo was on a toll bridge with her dad when she brought it up. By the end of crossing the bridge, her dad had consented that if she truly loved this boy, she could marry him. Bo was so excited she lost the toll ticket and they had to pay a large fine to exit the bridge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama Bo is very happy at her new nursing home and it was very nice. She has horrible short term memory, but pretty good long term memory. It's a circle of life type realization when you take a baby to a nursing home. Both Ruby and Mama Bo require bibs to eat, lots of care from others and are happy with their lot in life. It's a good reminder to live life to the fullest while you are physically fit.&lt;br /&gt;The nice thing about the short term memory is that you can tell Mama Bo over and over about her namesake and she is completely excited each and every time. Again, a trait Ruby shares except that she garters a little more information each time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby: What is that?!?&lt;br /&gt;Ruby: Oh, my hand.&lt;br /&gt;Ruby: What is that?!?&lt;br /&gt;Ruby: Oh cool. A hand. What are those?!? Oh, fingers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-7139006840429173479?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/7139006840429173479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=7139006840429173479' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7139006840429173479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7139006840429173479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/meet-real-rosalynn.html' title='Meet the Real Rosalynn'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rq3zSZRnocI/AAAAAAAAAJE/_C88GXLCbzI/s72-c/20070712+-+Mama+Bo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-8766531014592566147</id><published>2007-07-28T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T09:18:58.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoody Towel of July!</title><content type='html'>It's amazing what you miss when you don't stay at home.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Jeff talked to our elderly, deaf next door neighbor who seemed inordinately interested in our empty trashcan.  Apparently (dispite a piece of mail addressed to Jamey sticking to the inside), he believes that ours is his since his trash can is missing.  Jeff assured him ours is not in the garage and is, in fact, the one on the street. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That hasn't stopped him from investigating it again after Jeff came inside.  I tried to get a picture of him with his head in our baby-diaper scented trash can, but he finally gave up after checking 4 times.  Maybe he found his.  Anyhoo, he entertained me as I watched him from our dining room.  It doesn't take much these days.  Since I didn't get a picture, here is a hoody towel of July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rqtr7ZRnobI/AAAAAAAAAI8/Uj3aWEj5-kA/s1600-h/20070728+-+hoody+towel+july.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rqtr7ZRnobI/AAAAAAAAAI8/Uj3aWEj5-kA/s400/20070728+-+hoody+towel+july.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092282471813718450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-8766531014592566147?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/8766531014592566147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=8766531014592566147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8766531014592566147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8766531014592566147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/hoody-towel-of-july.html' title='Hoody Towel of July!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rqtr7ZRnobI/AAAAAAAAAI8/Uj3aWEj5-kA/s72-c/20070728+-+hoody+towel+july.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-2571015982755734155</id><published>2007-07-26T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T06:46:10.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Decent Proposal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijBZRnoYI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lHFUlRwDAvw/s1600-h/20061127004_to_make_Evan_look_sweet.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijBZRnoYI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lHFUlRwDAvw/s320/20061127004_to_make_Evan_look_sweet.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091498623102329218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 27, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Stacy had guessed Evan would propose on the vacation. Her major clue? Prior to departure, Stacy mentioned striking Antwerp, the diamond capitol, from our itinerary. Evan was insistent that we keep that destination. So Stacy felt confident she was right. It’s good that Evan did propose. Otherwise, Stacy might have kicked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqiinpRnoVI/AAAAAAAAAIM/0bkOXXHpE-U/s1600-h/20061127001_Today_is_full_of_surprises.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqiinpRnoVI/AAAAAAAAAIM/0bkOXXHpE-U/s400/20061127001_Today_is_full_of_surprises.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091498180720697682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqiinpRnoWI/AAAAAAAAAIU/EXD4yMZtD9w/s1600-h/20061127002_After_breakfast.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqiinpRnoWI/AAAAAAAAAIU/EXD4yMZtD9w/s400/20061127002_After_breakfast.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091498180720697698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rqiin5RnoXI/AAAAAAAAAIc/9Utm9b1VNEE/s1600-h/20061127003_We_rewrote_history.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rqiin5RnoXI/AAAAAAAAAIc/9Utm9b1VNEE/s400/20061127003_We_rewrote_history.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091498185015665010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijmpRnoaI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iQ9Wvi7LILE/s1600-h/20061127005_It_was_Stacy%27s_idea.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijmpRnoaI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iQ9Wvi7LILE/s400/20061127005_It_was_Stacy%27s_idea.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091499263052456354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijbZRnoZI/AAAAAAAAAIs/hVpOLK3KCLg/s1600-h/20061127008_So_was_our_friend.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijbZRnoZI/AAAAAAAAAIs/hVpOLK3KCLg/s400/20061127008_So_was_our_friend.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091499069778928018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 27, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Well, we didn't learn our lesson apparently. Despite all our beliefs to the contrary, our flight leaves at 12:15, not 12:57. Whoops. All the time we padded in for customs, tax forms, etc was gone. However, we managed to shop, drop off forms, shop some more and make it to the plane on time [and the plane had ice cream and a puppy (not all to eat, of course)]! It was a great trip and hopefully another one will be forthcoming to attend a wedding! About time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 27, 2006&lt;br /&gt;The woman sitting next to us on the plane is bringing home an 8 week old Golden Retriever puppy. It's slept almost the whole way, and didn't receive any tranquilizers. Over the state on New York, it woke up and nibbled on some bread. Overall, the puppy performed a little better than Picasso did when we took him on a two hour flight.&lt;br /&gt;Stacy interjects:&lt;br /&gt;-Picasso was only 6 weeks old,&lt;br /&gt;-had just been separated from his mom,&lt;br /&gt;-and had less bonding time with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This ends our trip back in time. I'll return to the world of real-time (or near real-time for those I work with) blogging. When I catch up, I'll ready to go back in time again for a ski trip journal that has never been published. After that, I guess I will need a new vacation!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-2571015982755734155?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/2571015982755734155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=2571015982755734155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/2571015982755734155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/2571015982755734155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/decent-proposal.html' title='A Decent Proposal'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqijBZRnoYI/AAAAAAAAAIk/lHFUlRwDAvw/s72-c/20061127004_to_make_Evan_look_sweet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-3910263322551979266</id><published>2007-07-23T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T11:50:13.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Romancing the Stone</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;By this point in the journal, Jamey and I are as entertained by Evan and Yvonne as we are by Belgium.  Jamey captures the moments.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZEZJRnoMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/aj0U4dATSyE/s1600-h/20061126010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZEZJRnoMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/aj0U4dATSyE/s400/20061126010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090831627566162114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYwMJRnoGI/AAAAAAAAAGU/8PRLecOqEf8/s1600-h/20061126024_Gar%C3%A7onova.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYwMJRnoGI/AAAAAAAAAGU/8PRLecOqEf8/s400/20061126024_Gar%C3%A7onova.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090809413995307106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYwMpRnoHI/AAAAAAAAAGc/A_s9fQdj-rQ/s1600-h/20061126025_is_your_hero.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYwMpRnoHI/AAAAAAAAAGc/A_s9fQdj-rQ/s400/20061126025_is_your_hero.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090809422585241714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZGl5RnoQI/AAAAAAAAAHk/UVzOXJA9N0M/s1600-h/20061126008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZGl5RnoQI/AAAAAAAAAHk/UVzOXJA9N0M/s400/20061126008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090834045632749826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYw2pRnoII/AAAAAAAAAGk/SPjzWxezmFA/s1600-h/20061126026_unless_you%27re_weird.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYw2pRnoII/AAAAAAAAAGk/SPjzWxezmFA/s400/20061126026_unless_you%27re_weird.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090810144139747458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 26, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHQZRnoRI/AAAAAAAAAHs/ZmeTRpOX7vc/s1600-h/20061126003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHQZRnoRI/AAAAAAAAAHs/ZmeTRpOX7vc/s320/20061126003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090834775777190162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The art museum in Belgium is awesome.  We had to rush through sections or we wouldn't have finished.&lt;br /&gt;Some of the surrealist paintings and sculpture that we were interested in seeing weren't on display due to a special exhibit.  In particular, we were disappointed to miss out on a large portion of the James Ensor paintings.  Still there was plenty to entertain.&lt;br /&gt;In the religious paintings, anything referring to the temptation of Saint Anthony Daade made it worth the walk through countless depictions of crucifixion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHj5RnoSI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YtVUGpBbyxM/s1600-h/20061126017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHj5RnoSI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YtVUGpBbyxM/s400/20061126017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090835110784639266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHkJRnoTI/AAAAAAAAAH8/z7WsYNtTN5Y/s1600-h/20061126018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHkJRnoTI/AAAAAAAAAH8/z7WsYNtTN5Y/s400/20061126018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090835115079606578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHkZRnoUI/AAAAAAAAAIE/HL48e6iWVuk/s1600-h/20061126019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZHkZRnoUI/AAAAAAAAAIE/HL48e6iWVuk/s400/20061126019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090835119374573890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 26, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Wittamer is the best hot chocolate in Belgium.  This is the result of an extensive search starting in Brugge and ending in Brussels.  &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZFCJRnoNI/AAAAAAAAAHM/cFbKjglUNec/s1600-h/20061126011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZFCJRnoNI/AAAAAAAAAHM/cFbKjglUNec/s200/20061126011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090832331940798674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The secret is simple.  Milk was getting in the way.  Wittamer's takes just enough milk to melt the chocolate and you are then ready to enjoy your 5000 calorie drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYw25RnoJI/AAAAAAAAAGs/2wk8kV9ZIiY/s1600-h/20061126027_writing_this_journal.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqYw25RnoJI/AAAAAAAAAGs/2wk8kV9ZIiY/s400/20061126027_writing_this_journal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090810148434714770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZCrZRnoLI/AAAAAAAAAG8/uDr09_5jXK4/s1600-h/20061126028_is_a_thankless_job.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZCrZRnoLI/AAAAAAAAAG8/uDr09_5jXK4/s400/20061126028_is_a_thankless_job.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090829742075519154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZCXpRnoKI/AAAAAAAAAG0/XN34bkxz2_o/s1600-h/20061126029_Nevermind.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZCXpRnoKI/AAAAAAAAAG0/XN34bkxz2_o/s400/20061126029_Nevermind.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090829402773102754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 26, 2006&lt;br /&gt;We set out for some Christmas shopping, but many places are closed on Sunday.  So instead, we shopped for ourselves at one of the few open stores that interested us.&lt;br /&gt;Stacy got me a present for our anniversary.  I bought her a present yesterday, so now we've both been sufficiently prized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, a miniture time travel within this time travel as Evan recreates the proposal.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-3910263322551979266?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/3910263322551979266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=3910263322551979266' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3910263322551979266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3910263322551979266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/romancing-stone.html' title='Romancing the Stone'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqZEZJRnoMI/AAAAAAAAAHE/aj0U4dATSyE/s72-c/20061126010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-4806280771077886837</id><published>2007-07-22T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T08:22:32.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When you gonna ring it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqN1DpRnoFI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_l8P2wEAI5g/s1600-h/20061125014_and_fall_for_trap.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqN1DpRnoFI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_l8P2wEAI5g/s320/20061125014_and_fall_for_trap.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090040709338603602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saturday, we took a train from Brussels to Antwerp, a major diamond cutting center. Evan took the romantic setting of the train ride to casually ask Yvonne if she wanted a ring. Antwerp also has a very nice church that we visited and some touristy stuff like waffles, shopping and statues of fries?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNvtZRnn9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/AoPmo1xJIgA/s1600-h/20061125001_Good_morning.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNvtZRnn9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/AoPmo1xJIgA/s400/20061125001_Good_morning.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090034829528375250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNvtpRnn-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/13B0FBEq9ak/s1600-h/20061125002_Romance_is_dead.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNvtpRnn-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/13B0FBEq9ak/s400/20061125002_Romance_is_dead.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090034833823342562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 25, 2006 - &lt;em&gt;Jamey's lunch entry in Antwerp&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Grimbergen Dubbel is dark like an English porter. It has a nice head, like all the Belgian beers, and an almost fruity finish.&lt;br /&gt;The Vedet Extra Blond has a penguin basking in the glow of a red sun.&lt;br /&gt;We picked up waffles from a street vendor. They were perfectly sweetened. I think they coat them lightly in syrup, and then reheat so that the syrup bonds to the crunchy exterior. The insides of the waffle had the texture of soufflé.&lt;br /&gt;The cathedral in Antwerp is outrageous. The collection of stonework, painting, stained glass, and sculpture within overloads the senses. I think it was more impressive than any churches I visited in Paris. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxG5Rnn_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/11bYQWICfOw/s1600-h/20061125024_You%27d_better_watch_out.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxG5Rnn_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/11bYQWICfOw/s400/20061125024_You%27d_better_watch_out.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090036367126667250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For more modern architecture, Central Station is also amazing. Evan pointed out that it looks like the "Station' background that shipped with Microsoft Windows 95. I'll have to Google it later, but I believe he's right.&lt;br /&gt;For lunch we went to Appelmans near the cathedral. This restaurant/absinthe bar is sandwiched between several Italian restaurants. Food was good and reasonably priced. The goat cheese on Stacy's salad was my favorite. I had a meat casserole - similar to a dish I cooked a few weeks ago in anticipation of this trip. Mine was better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Romance is dead!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxG5RnoAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/2KopBzoQBYo/s1600-h/20061125025_Romance_continues.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxG5RnoAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/2KopBzoQBYo/s400/20061125025_Romance_continues.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090036367126667266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxHJRnoBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/gRir0vBkO7Q/s1600-h/20061125026_to_escape_us.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNxHJRnoBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/gRir0vBkO7Q/s400/20061125026_to_escape_us.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090036371421634578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQpRnoCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/2Z3zDM7zFkM/s1600-h/20061125027_It%27s_replacement.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQpRnoCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/2Z3zDM7zFkM/s400/20061125027_It%27s_replacement.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090037634142019618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQpRnoDI/AAAAAAAAAF8/OkCnXNCtRSw/s1600-h/20061125028_is_insanity.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQpRnoDI/AAAAAAAAAF8/OkCnXNCtRSw/s400/20061125028_is_insanity.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090037634142019634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQ5RnoEI/AAAAAAAAAGE/RsPP4WVSJF8/s1600-h/20061125029_Tee_hee.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqNyQ5RnoEI/AAAAAAAAAGE/RsPP4WVSJF8/s400/20061125029_Tee_hee.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090037638436986946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 25, 2006&lt;br /&gt;If you're too stupid to make it off the train, don't worry. The nice ticket taker who knows there are Americans aboard has a special key he can use to prevent the train from departing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Next time, the fabulous art museum in Brussels and the best hot chocolate in the world!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-4806280771077886837?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/4806280771077886837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=4806280771077886837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4806280771077886837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/4806280771077886837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/when-you-gonna-ring-it.html' title='When you gonna ring it?'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqN1DpRnoFI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_l8P2wEAI5g/s72-c/20061125014_and_fall_for_trap.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-1479942442767546847</id><published>2007-07-20T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T07:01:36.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rockin the Kasbah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC6OCE-TjI/AAAAAAAAAEs/9deV9Uj0onE/s1600-h/20061124007_Pie_Bandits.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC6OCE-TjI/AAAAAAAAAEs/9deV9Uj0onE/s400/20061124007_Pie_Bandits.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089272329167326770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A morning of chocolate shopping in Bruges and we were off to Brussels. Brussels, like any large European city mixes history and modernism sometimes not very successfully. Still, there is so much to see and do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 24, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Back and forth across the streets, we ricocheted in and out of chocolate shops. I'm carrying Stacy's purchases and it feels like about two pounds. We stopped at "The Tea Shop" for the daily hot chocolate break. But they are out of hot chocolate. That's a good thing, because the seasonal Christmas tea is fabulous. Yvonne and I had the black tea version. Stacy had green. Evan passed on the caffeinated drinks and complained of sleepiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC7XyE-TkI/AAAAAAAAAE0/NFALHY0Xe50/s1600-h/20061124008_Musical_Instrument_Museum.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC7XyE-TkI/AAAAAAAAAE0/NFALHY0Xe50/s200/20061124008_Musical_Instrument_Museum.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089273596182679106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Museum of Musical Instruments was interesting. With your ticket purchase, you receive a pair of infrared headphones that activate with sample music when you stand in front of certain exhibits. It's a cool idea, but it was a bit flaky. The sound was staticy. Sometimes you got music in one ear, but static in the other. Sometimes you got the music for a neighboring exhibit. The result was museum-goers articulating their heads arhythmically to try to catch the tune. You would think the sound system at the music museum would have received more design input from audiophiles. The exhibits were great though. The collections of pianos, harpsichords, and violins were my favorites. In those collections, the museum did a good job of showing the heritage of the instrument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 24, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Kasbah Restaurant was empty when we entered, but is filling quickly now. We're lucky we got here early (around 7). Brussels is a bit livelier on November Friday evenings than Brugge.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC8XSE-TlI/AAAAAAAAAE8/lsXQtK-YvQM/s1600-h/20061124015_and_apparently_hungry.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC8XSE-TlI/AAAAAAAAAE8/lsXQtK-YvQM/s200/20061124015_and_apparently_hungry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089274687104372306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We asked the waiter to order for us. It looked like way too much food when it arrived, but it's gone now.&lt;br /&gt;The highlight was a lamb shank cooked in a clay pot. We also had shrimp skewers, lamb skewers, beef, grilled chicken, grilled sausages, and vegetables cooked in broth and served over cous cous. The Moroccan food was a nice break from Belgian seafood - especially for Stacy who requires cultural culinary temporarily diversity more than most. And she's also sick of crackers.&lt;br /&gt;We're all stuffed from dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Stacy ordered a pastry for dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 24, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC9vSE-TmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/6-iORVdGp74/s1600-h/IMG_0277.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC9vSE-TmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/6-iORVdGp74/s320/IMG_0277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089276198932860514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After dinner, we walked to "The Music Village." They have Jazz on Fridays and Saturdays. Tonight is the Judy Niemack Band. The drummer didn't show, so they substituted a pianist. To me, the pianist and the bass player are stealing the show. Judy uses a digital vocal sampler to create harmonies during some songs. She'll sing a few back-up phrases, play two or three at a time, mute them, then return the volume without a hitch. I thought that was an impressive testament to the group/s ability to keep time without a drummer.&lt;br /&gt;Judy sneers like Elvis at times.&lt;br /&gt;Other than one guest pianist, the band is from New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the calendar, Django Reinhardt's grandson, David, and David's cousin played here in October. I'll have to let Bill know they're on the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrow, a pathetic proposal and a not so pathetic ring.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-1479942442767546847?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/1479942442767546847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=1479942442767546847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1479942442767546847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1479942442767546847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/dont-know.html' title='Rockin the Kasbah'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RqC6OCE-TjI/AAAAAAAAAEs/9deV9Uj0onE/s72-c/20061124007_Pie_Bandits.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-7592432319542659526</id><published>2007-07-19T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T09:01:03.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp-InyE-ThI/AAAAAAAAAEc/tswP1iSHB2A/s1600-h/20061123001_We_toured.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp-InyE-ThI/AAAAAAAAAEc/tswP1iSHB2A/s400/20061123001_We_toured.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088936320990858770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thanksgiving is such a great time to travel to Europe.  There are no crowds and you already have 1-2 days off that week.  Plus, you usually get a crazy Thanksgiving meal.  I love Thanksgiving food, so I work all my favorite dishes from Thanksgiving into Xmas dinner requests of my mom!  Today's installment begins Jamey's move to comic book artist.  I don't know why I am portrayed with fangs, but Jamey assures me that indicates something sweet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 23, 2006&lt;br /&gt;We went on the guided tour at Huisbrouwery de Halve Maan.  Today the beer is made in modern equipment - the type you see on display at any microbrewery/restaurant.  But the tour took us through the old rooms that were used for mashing, cooling, and fermentation.  The cooling room was a giant wall-to-wall copper basing with open air windows to allow the breeze to pass through.  The roof afforded a great photo spot.  At the end of the tour, we all had a glass of the Bruge Zot, the same blonde beer Evan had last night with dinner.  We learned that herbs and spices play an important role in the secret recipes for beets at this brewery.  The only actually brew here three days every fortnight, and they weren't brewing this day.  The table by the fireplace at the end of the tour made up for this small disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp-JPyE-TiI/AAAAAAAAAEk/s12lTojEUK4/s1600-h/20061123007_but_she_perked_up.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp-JPyE-TiI/AAAAAAAAAEk/s12lTojEUK4/s400/20061123007_but_she_perked_up.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088937008185626146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;November 23, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Between shopping, we stopped at Tongerlo for snacks and beer or hot chocolate - or in Evan's case, beer and hot chocolate.  I ordered toast canibal (toast with raw meat) chopped beef mixed with horseradish on a slice of toasted white bread.  It disappeared in a flash.  In Belgium, each beer is served in a glass from its brewery.  Evan's Kwak was one of the strangest of these we've seen so far.  It looks like a beaker from high school chemistry lab.  It must be painful to clean.  If I ever open a bar in Belgium, we probably won't serve Kwak.  Even though it's a fine beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 23, 2006&lt;br /&gt;I can tell Verdi is my kind of place, because there is a wealthy man with a top hat on the sign.  We stopped in for another hot chocolate break, because the girls felt cheated by the last cup.  I'm not sure why the expected hot chocolate from a bar to live up to that of the frou frou tea houses.  But Verdi did not disappoint.  It was the now familiar hot-chocolate-erector-set.  But instead of assorted sugar cubes (which would have been ignored) there were two block of chocolate on stirrers per cup.  I had the warm wine.  We're the youngest people in the restaurant by thirty years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 23, 2006&lt;br /&gt;We played cards at Verdi until time for dinner.  It was Evan and Yvonne's first time to play Gin Rummy.&lt;br /&gt;We didn't realize what day it was until we were through the main course.  But Thanksgiving dinner included:&lt;br /&gt;Scallop carpaggio&lt;br /&gt;Raw oysters&lt;br /&gt;North Sea fish stew&lt;br /&gt;Beer tartar&lt;br /&gt;Filet of Turbot&lt;br /&gt;Pheasant&lt;br /&gt;Steak with béarnaise sauce&lt;br /&gt;Curry ice cream with pineapple&lt;br /&gt;Crème brulee&lt;br /&gt;Chestnut pancakes with poached apples&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving, Brasserie Belge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrow, its off to Brussels.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-7592432319542659526?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/7592432319542659526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=7592432319542659526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7592432319542659526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7592432319542659526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/thanksgiving-is-such-great-time-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp-InyE-ThI/AAAAAAAAAEc/tswP1iSHB2A/s72-c/20061123001_We_toured.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-127068493517480650</id><published>2007-07-18T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T08:28:04.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hats, Sights and Sea Wolfs Oh My!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The sights we saw our first full day in Brugge convinced us its the most beautiful place in Europe. If you look closely, even Yvonne's hair was smiling. I must insert a quick Ruby update. She slept through the night last night. Wonder of wonders!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4qQSE-TcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/K-cGo5vwp98/s1600-h/20061122023_That_she_is_proud_of.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4qQSE-TcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/K-cGo5vwp98/s320/20061122023_That_she_is_proud_of.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088551088194211266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 22, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Today we all tried on hats like we were part of a 1980s' American teen movie montage. Evan's head is really big. It's only one US Evan head, but over here it's like 60 or 61 kilo-heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 22, 2006&lt;br /&gt;"It's a matter of taste"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we're at tea room-Carde Diem for our hot chocolate &amp; snack break. The hot chocolate employs a method similar to that of yesterday's cup. But this time, the chocolate is a solid block on the end of a stirring stick instead of melted. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4sUiE-TdI/AAAAAAAAAD8/4VZvYzDCVnU/s1600-h/20061122017_So_we_needed_hot_chocolate.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4sUiE-TdI/AAAAAAAAAD8/4VZvYzDCVnU/s200/20061122017_So_we_needed_hot_chocolate.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088553360231910866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Stacy preferred today's cup because the DIY step was easier. Yvonne said the solid chocolate robbed too much heat from the finished product, and she preferred yesterday's cup. Stacy preferred her crepe with raspberries and pralines while Yvonne preferred her chocolate slathered waffle. I hope the two ladies end this constant bickering soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4s7iE-TeI/AAAAAAAAAEE/-56Qf7IljLY/s1600-h/20061122019_And_a_side_of_pancake.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4s7iE-TeI/AAAAAAAAAEE/-56Qf7IljLY/s200/20061122019_And_a_side_of_pancake.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088554030246809058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ♥ frambozen pannenkoeken&lt;br /&gt;krokante pecannoton, slagroom en vanilla iss&lt;br /&gt;choc-o-lait.be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 22, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Today we took a boat tour on the canals, so I got the see the men's restroom of the hospital of St John from the other side of the window. It was empty, but I wonder if anyone on yesterday's canal tour was as surprised as I to be looking at each other through the open window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4tkiE-TfI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Ei5vPjlaVKM/s1600-h/20061122008_to_move_to_Brugge.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4tkiE-TfI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Ei5vPjlaVKM/s320/20061122008_to_move_to_Brugge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088554734621445618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 22, 2006&lt;br /&gt;The Trappist beer Orval is one of my favorites tried so far. It’s brown and has a nice bitterness. Evan got a Brugse Zot. It's a nice wheat beer. Both have cool logos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jester beats fish in looks, but Orval beats Zot in taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, we had the restaurant to ourselves for dinner. So we assumed we could get by without reservations at De Snippe. It was raining, and Stacy and a hard time rousing herself from a nap, so we had the hotel hail a taxi. That was fortunate, because De Snippe was closed for renovations. Our cab driver recommended an alternative, but it was also closed. We told him we wanted seafood, so he dropped us off near the square where the outdoor seafood market is held five days a week. Here there were several restaurants - both opened and closed. We read the menus posted outside and chose Vistro de Mosselkelde. The place was great. They offered five fixed-price menus and a huge variety of a la carte items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the menus we perused that night (but did not choose)had an interesting dish. I don't know what sea wolf is, but any meat raped in bacon would probably be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4t6iE-TgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/lhfH06-iXJA/s1600-h/20061122036_We_didn%27t_eat_here.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4t6iE-TgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/lhfH06-iXJA/s400/20061122036_We_didn%27t_eat_here.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088555112578567682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrow, Jamey draws his first journal comic strip and the journal will never be the same again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-127068493517480650?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/127068493517480650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=127068493517480650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/127068493517480650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/127068493517480650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/sights-we-saw-our-first-full-day-in.html' title='Hats, Sights and Sea Wolfs Oh My!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp4qQSE-TcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/K-cGo5vwp98/s72-c/20061122023_That_she_is_proud_of.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-1920898738775290223</id><published>2007-07-17T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T12:37:11.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A First Day of Belgium Food</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0Y2yE-TbI/AAAAAAAAADs/E7PLCOV2kw8/s1600-h/20061121007_for_pancakes_and_waffles.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0Y2yE-TbI/AAAAAAAAADs/E7PLCOV2kw8/s320/20061121007_for_pancakes_and_waffles.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088250483433164210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's interesting to note that all the journal articles for Nov 21 were courtesy of Jamey and revolve around food, beer and toothpaste. I suppose if Yvonne had written the journal that day I would be using this first picture for her subject matter of choice. Disgustingly, this is what Yvonne looks like after an entire day of travel and no sleep. I'm not sure I want to travel with her ever again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 21, 2006 - Brugge&lt;br /&gt;"$2.50 worth of pudding"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't pay attention to the label on my tube of toothpaste. It's vanilla flavored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 21, 2006&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0V2SE-TZI/AAAAAAAAADc/3vqjGUkuez0/s1600-h/20061121005_and_some_beer.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0V2SE-TZI/AAAAAAAAADc/3vqjGUkuez0/s320/20061121005_and_some_beer.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088247176308346258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strijdershuis, Oude Burg, Brugge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "Oud Brun" is the first dark wheat beer I've had. At least I think it’s wheat beer. It's very sweet and tastes almost like a wine. Evan's "Keyte" was preferable. The "Keyte" has a clear, honey blonde color and a malty finish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 21, 2006&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0U3SE-TYI/AAAAAAAAADU/Q6jjUovg-cY/s1600-h/20061121018_Hot_chocolate_done_right.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0U3SE-TYI/AAAAAAAAADU/Q6jjUovg-cY/s320/20061121018_Hot_chocolate_done_right.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088246093976587650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our guidebook's recommendation for "Best cup of hot chocolate" was De Proeverie. Hot chocolate was served as a mug of steamed milk, a saucer of melted, semi-sweet chocolate, a saucer of whipped cream, and a spoon to stir. There was also a saucer with a sample of four chocolates on the side. There were two sugar cubes, but we all ignored them. The drink was sweet and rich enough without.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 21, 2006&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0X5SE-TaI/AAAAAAAAADk/RLNOqLF23Ss/s1600-h/20061121020_This_is_us.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0X5SE-TaI/AAAAAAAAADk/RLNOqLF23Ss/s320/20061121020_This_is_us.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088249426871209378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brugge is so picturesque. On our walk to dinner, we stopped to photograph a building with a Gothic tower and its reflection in the still waters of the canal below. A few minutes later, we discovered that beautiful building was in fact our destination - Kasteel Minnewater. The food matched our surroundings. The specialty was mussels in a cream source. The highlight was a dessert that combines crème brulee with chocolate soufflé.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tomorrow, more food discoveries and we find out Evan's hat size.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-1920898738775290223?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/1920898738775290223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=1920898738775290223' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1920898738775290223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1920898738775290223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/first-day-of-belgium-food.html' title='A First Day of Belgium Food'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rp0Y2yE-TbI/AAAAAAAAADs/E7PLCOV2kw8/s72-c/20061121007_for_pancakes_and_waffles.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-8234835816877464235</id><published>2007-07-16T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T13:00:52.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alright McFly, Let's Fix This</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpvNdCE-TXI/AAAAAAAAADM/T6q4P9E5Y4o/s1600-h/IMG_0355.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpvNdCE-TXI/AAAAAAAAADM/T6q4P9E5Y4o/s320/IMG_0355.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087886102702738802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Back in 2006, Evan, Yvonne, Jamey, Ruby (at 8 weeks from conception) and I took a stellar trip to Belgium. We kept a fantastic journal and have some great pictures. Unfortunately, I was too pregnant (i.e. sleepy and nauseous) to update a website with our vacation. Well, now that I have some time, why not fix that? Hop in my DeLorean and let's go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 20, 2006 - Jamey&lt;br /&gt;"I love ya, Tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff offered to drive us to the airport. He had a 2:00 class at UAB, so our 12:57 departure fit into his schedule nicely. We picked up Evan and Yvonne and headed to Thai Garden for an early lunch.&lt;br /&gt;As we finished lunch, Yvonne retrieved the envelope containing all our travel docs. Jeff commented that Yvonne looked particularly studious as she scanned the travel docs, so she could separate the Taylors from Lo-Kochs. Stacy got impatient and snatched the papers from Yvonne's hands. Now it was Stacy’s turn to stare at the itinerary for an inordinately long time. "These all say, 'Departs Tuesday,' but Tuesday’s supposed to be when we arrive." Remain calm, but do so as quickly as possible. Pay the tab. Start the car. Compare the airline docs to the print-out of the original reservation. Good, we weren't retarded when we made the reservation. Who had the number? Look up the number. Call Gate One Travel.&lt;br /&gt;What if we can't go to Belgium today? What if they have to upgrade us to first class? What if there are only two seats left? Then Stacy and Evan will have fun. Why do I have to sit next to the pregnant lady? Surely there's still room on the flight to Belgium, but what if the flight to Washington, DC is all booked? Who will fetch the saltines from the carry-on if there's a snack-attack? But we're not able to sit together? Why didn't we notice this earlier? Guilt, anger, acceptance, denial, picking-on-Stacy. We ran the whole gamut of emotions while we waited for the travel agency to call Yvonne back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were a couple miles south of the airport when Yvonne's phone rang. Our booking was corrected. Yvonne and the Gate One agent shared a long goodbye. The agent lectured that this was Yvonne's fault for not being at the airport two hours before the flight departure time. We're not able to figure out how that makes any sense whatsoever, but whatever, we're going to Belgium. Last minute flight change. Foreign passport. Name on the ticket doesn't match the name on the passport. Yvonne's ticket bore the acronym 'SSSS'. The ladies at the tail of the security queue highlighted the ssses and several other areas of Yvonne's ticket in scarlet. While Stacy and I strolled through the security check-point holding the wrong tickets (I hers and she mine), Yvonne was sent to stand in a queue for&lt;br /&gt;Super&lt;br /&gt;Scary&lt;br /&gt;Special&lt;br /&gt;Security&lt;br /&gt;Ok. So we don't know what the sssses stand for. Stacy and I debated over whether or not one is allowed to photograph their friends who are receiving a full-body pat-down and scan. We debated until our photo-op had passed though, so you'll have to trust me that this story is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpvLZiE-TWI/AAAAAAAAADE/dSjeNcEohT8/s1600-h/20061121001_We_took_a_train_to_Brugge.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpvLZiE-TWI/AAAAAAAAADE/dSjeNcEohT8/s320/20061121001_We_took_a_train_to_Brugge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087883843549941090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are on our flight to DC. Life can't always be beer and chocolate, but for the upcoming week, we'll give it a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-8234835816877464235?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/8234835816877464235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=8234835816877464235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8234835816877464235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/8234835816877464235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/alright-mcfly-lets-fix-this.html' title='Alright McFly, Let&apos;s Fix This'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpvNdCE-TXI/AAAAAAAAADM/T6q4P9E5Y4o/s72-c/IMG_0355.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-27793025351003677</id><published>2007-07-15T10:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T10:05:07.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 1 Month Birthday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RppTIyE-TVI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VUCiJ2c838U/s1600-h/20070714+-+1+month.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RppTIyE-TVI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VUCiJ2c838U/s400/20070714+-+1+month.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087470139415088466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby has successfully learned to scoot with something to push off of, make noises other than crying and pee on mommy's hands every time mommy changes the diaper in the middle of the night. Who knows what she will learn this month!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-27793025351003677?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/27793025351003677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=27793025351003677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/27793025351003677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/27793025351003677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/happy-1-month-birthday.html' title='Happy 1 Month Birthday!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RppTIyE-TVI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VUCiJ2c838U/s72-c/20070714+-+1+month.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-3526508506436390439</id><published>2007-07-12T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T14:33:06.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Devil Wears Huggies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpadlSE-TUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/T-Za1_-FB9A/s1600-h/20070705+-+jamey+reads+to+Ruby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpadlSE-TUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/T-Za1_-FB9A/s200/20070705+-+jamey+reads+to+Ruby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086426092994972994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I read the book quite awhile back, last night was the first oppurtunity I've had to see the movie The Devil Wears Prada. I remember being horrified by evil boss Miranda's needs when reading the book,so imagine my dismay when I realized that I was underwhelmed by her demands when watching the movie.  Now I have a new perpective on demanding bosses.  Let's take, for example, a typical workday with my new boss R. R. Taylor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RR:  Person!  I will need my formula at 1:30, 4:30, 6:30 and 9:00 AM.  Also 12, 3, 6, and 9 and possibly 11 PM.  It must be tepid.  Not hot and not cold!  I will need to be burped each time as well.  If not, I will scream until you walk me around the house for 1 hour.  That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RR:  Person!  Are you incompetent?  I have wet myself and need to be changed immediately.  That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RR:  Read to me!  Hold the book higher, I cannot see the pictures unless they are 8 inches from my eyes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RR:  You are a great disappoitnment to me.  I requested formula at 3 PM and it is now 3:05.  Perhaps you never learned to tell time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy got fabulous clothes and trips to Paris.  My perks are not apparent yet, but hopefully will surface once I prove myself.  I hear my boss might even smile at me one day and know my name.  Imagine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-3526508506436390439?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/3526508506436390439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=3526508506436390439' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3526508506436390439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/3526508506436390439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/devil-wears-huggies.html' title='The Devil Wears Huggies'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RpadlSE-TUI/AAAAAAAAAC0/T-Za1_-FB9A/s72-c/20070705+-+jamey+reads+to+Ruby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-618145733249901787</id><published>2007-07-06T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T10:02:52.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Capture the Flag</title><content type='html'>There's pressure to capture all the new things your kid can do. After all, I have these blanks in the baby books to fill in and I'm certain that if I don't notice that batting at an object is a huge accomplishment worth noting of the date, then I am probably going to hear about it when Ruby notices said blank page of accomplishments later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when I realized have already missed a milestone. I did not pay proper due to her FIRST HOLIDAY and FIRST FOURTH OF JULY. Now, there is an entire page in the baby book for these fantastic events. I suppose I should have dressed her in a red white and blue outfit, lit some sparklers and took some pictures. Instead, may I present the photos taken that day which will now grace the pages of her FIRST HOLIDAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her monkey like abilities to gain nourishment.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ro51MJiaCaI/AAAAAAAAACs/X4MvjT_UNW4/s1600-h/20070704+-+Ruby+bottle+feet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ro51MJiaCaI/AAAAAAAAACs/X4MvjT_UNW4/s400/20070704+-+Ruby+bottle+feet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084129880926980514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In response to my request for Jamey to "Take her and diaper her butt."&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ro5085iaCZI/AAAAAAAAACk/nzbeT0kz1io/s1600-h/20070704+-+Stacy+and+Ruby+diaperhead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ro5085iaCZI/AAAAAAAAACk/nzbeT0kz1io/s400/20070704+-+Stacy+and+Ruby+diaperhead.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084129618933975442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a relief!  Now I am free to miss up as many firsts as I would like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-618145733249901787?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/618145733249901787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=618145733249901787' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/618145733249901787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/618145733249901787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/capture-flag.html' title='Capture the Flag'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ro51MJiaCaI/AAAAAAAAACs/X4MvjT_UNW4/s72-c/20070704+-+Ruby+bottle+feet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-1169754404260766977</id><published>2007-07-02T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T07:57:42.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoody Towel of June!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RopipZiaCXI/AAAAAAAAACU/QWmEoyT-ssg/s1600-h/20070630+-+Ruby+hoody+towel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RopipZiaCXI/AAAAAAAAACU/QWmEoyT-ssg/s400/20070630+-+Ruby+hoody+towel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082983592810383730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got some great cute hoody towels for Ruby.  I decided a monthly picture fest is in order.  Here is June's.  (Posted late, but I did take it on the 30th)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, newborn bath tips.  Until the umbilical cord falls off, sponge bath only and soap hasn't really been neccesary.  I have found singing a song about each body part makes her like the process.  There are many verses for her fat rolls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and here I told her to "Look fierce."  I think she did a stellar job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ropiz5iaCYI/AAAAAAAAACc/qHRbWUJAMzo/s1600-h/20070630+-+Ruby+fierce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Ropiz5iaCYI/AAAAAAAAACc/qHRbWUJAMzo/s400/20070630+-+Ruby+fierce.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082983773199010178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-1169754404260766977?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/1169754404260766977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=1169754404260766977' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1169754404260766977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1169754404260766977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/07/hoody-towel-of-june.html' title='Hoody Towel of June!'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RopipZiaCXI/AAAAAAAAACU/QWmEoyT-ssg/s72-c/20070630+-+Ruby+hoody+towel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-1735496059535437038</id><published>2007-06-30T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T11:10:46.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama Lion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoaFlpiaCWI/AAAAAAAAACM/7pfuE4nKlqw/s1600-h/20070618+-+Stacy+watches+over+Ruby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoaFlpiaCWI/AAAAAAAAACM/7pfuE4nKlqw/s320/20070618+-+Stacy+watches+over+Ruby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081896111386003810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, she's still breathing. No, that breathing isn't strained.  Yes, she's still in her crib.  No, noone took her out and stole her when you weren't looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a new mom is an interesting conflict between your left and right brain.  All your instincts are clamoring for you to sit right by her and watch her like a hawk 24-7.  Unfortunately, you would think that your right brain would help out occasionally.  Not so!  Your logical side is ready and willing to chip in and keep those irrational fires burning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instinct:  Is she still breathing?&lt;br /&gt;Rationality:  Probably.&lt;br /&gt;Instinct:  What do you mean probably, I thought you were here to make me feel better!&lt;br /&gt;Rationality:  Well, SIDS is real and there is a statistical chance...&lt;br /&gt;Instinct:  You suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh if you want.  When you have a kid, it will happen to you too. It is getting better.  As the lingering hormones work out of my system and lack of sleep kicks in, I forget to worry.  I even let Jamey have yardworkers over yesterday. (I didn't like strangers around my territory prior to that. Roar!) Having said all this, everyone who comes over comments at how calm I am compared to when they had thier first kid.  I'm going to guess that is age.  I can't imagine being able to handle all this as well at 23 as I am at 32.  Plus Ruby only cries maybe 10 minutes total a day.  It's hard to get stressed out when you have such a happy baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoaFQpiaCVI/AAAAAAAAACE/gYfyAioQct0/s1600-h/20070618+-+Jamey+plays+with+Ruby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoaFQpiaCVI/AAAAAAAAACE/gYfyAioQct0/s320/20070618+-+Jamey+plays+with+Ruby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081895750608750930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The counterpart to the Mama Lion is the Daddy Happy Fun Theme Park.  While I'm busy being over protective and worrying, Jamey happily roughhouses with Ruby as if she were indestructible.  It's good to be the Dad!  &lt;em&gt;Edit:  Since this post I realized Jamey has worried about her birthmark, whether her umbilical cord is infected and her ear hair.  I guess worry is universal it just happens over different things.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-1735496059535437038?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/1735496059535437038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=1735496059535437038' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1735496059535437038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/1735496059535437038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/mama-lion.html' title='Mama Lion'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoaFlpiaCWI/AAAAAAAAACM/7pfuE4nKlqw/s72-c/20070618+-+Stacy+watches+over+Ruby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-7943726885963716431</id><published>2007-06-27T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T15:05:02.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is normal?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoK3ApiaCTI/AAAAAAAAAB0/iLFDcGPw4iE/s1600-h/poop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoK3ApiaCTI/AAAAAAAAAB0/iLFDcGPw4iE/s200/poop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080824551405390130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing you are not warned about as a new parent is that you will be expected to know a good deal about what your precious bundle is producing. Without forewarning, you will be faced with something like my first pediatrician visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pediatrician: How of often does she have bowel movements?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh, alot.&lt;br /&gt;Pediatrician: What color are they?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh, poop colored, I guess. Black?&lt;br /&gt;Pediatrician: This poop in her diaper now looks green.&lt;br /&gt;Me: (amazed) Well, looky there, that's new! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor pediatrician did not accuse me of being a bad parent, but I could interpret that I was supposed to know the answers and not be shocked that my baby's poop went from the Creature from the Black Lagoon to Swamp Thing. Well, since I do have this time off from work and all, I best become the poop connoisseur that new moms are apparently supposed to be. May I present the first ever issue of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poop Spectator 2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meconium - A beginner's poo for clearing the bowels - Overall Score 89&lt;br /&gt;Nose: Hardly any distint smell but a hint of grassiness&lt;br /&gt;Color and Clarity: Ranging from black to dark green. Consistency is tar like and sticky.&lt;br /&gt;Best Paired With: Uterine leftovers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Transitional - A more advanced poo Overall Score 84&lt;br /&gt;Nose: A slightly headier aroma with pleasant undertones of spoiled milk&lt;br /&gt;Color and Clarity: Consistency of Natural peanut butter, grainy and mustard colored.&lt;br /&gt;Best Paired with: Three of four days of new food&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formula - A consistent poo for the connoisseur - Overall Score 87&lt;br /&gt;Nose: Still light and not very fragrant, some unpleasant notes of swamp gas begin to work in&lt;br /&gt;Color and Clarity: Seedy and mustard like, looking much like transitional stools but firmer (though still more like very mushy peanut butter than a pellet)&lt;br /&gt;Special Notes: Breast fed babies will have very similar but looser stools.&lt;br /&gt;Best Paired with:  Bottle feeding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So armed with this knowledge, I feel confident I can tackle parenthood. Unfortunately, I forgot I need to notice how many they have a day! Darn. Looks like Ruby's Centrum plan (one a day, get it?) is not going to cut it. 2-5 is more normal. Thanks to the helpful nurse, we know we can lather up a thermometer in Vaseline and insert it into, well, let's just say we can make our own Play Dough Fun Factory if need be. Ruby apparently heard this plan and it scared the !@#$ out of her because we never had to follow through with the nurse advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and for a nice little glance into the future, my sister changed her toddler's diaper in Ruby's room when she came to visit.  I about passed out from the fumes.  Good times a comin' when food is introduced I guess!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-7943726885963716431?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/7943726885963716431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=7943726885963716431' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7943726885963716431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7943726885963716431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/scoop-on-poop.html' title='This is normal?'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RoK3ApiaCTI/AAAAAAAAAB0/iLFDcGPw4iE/s72-c/poop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-7193807135047467076</id><published>2007-06-25T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T07:16:14.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puppy vs. Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn_ODC25t1I/AAAAAAAAABs/hHz7daSLZP8/s1600-h/20070618+-+Chrissy+and+Ruby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn_ODC25t1I/AAAAAAAAABs/hHz7daSLZP8/s320/20070618+-+Chrissy+and+Ruby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080005456399284050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first week of a newborn's life is so much easier than raising a puppy. A puppy certainly needs less effort overall for the first year, but I was just so surprised at how (comparatively) Ruby was so much easier than Picasso. Let's compare shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby&lt;br /&gt;Cries when hungry&lt;br /&gt;Pees and Poops in diaper&lt;br /&gt;Have to wake up every three hours during the night for feeding&lt;br /&gt;No teeth&lt;br /&gt;No mobility (unless you count that time she swung her arm over her head and turned on her side)&lt;br /&gt;Smells Good&lt;br /&gt;Seems to have 3 states of being (awake content, awake discontent, asleep)&lt;br /&gt;Time given off work to adjust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picasso&lt;br /&gt;Gets mean and looks like Fizgig when hungry (which we didn't figure out for awhile)&lt;br /&gt;Pees and Poops anywhere despite being let out every two hours&lt;br /&gt;Have to wake up every two hours for potential potty break&lt;br /&gt;Teeth for biting hands, toys, etc in place and rearin' to go&lt;br /&gt;Completely mobile&lt;br /&gt;Smells good&lt;br /&gt;Seems to have 2 states of being(awake mischievous, asleep)&lt;br /&gt;No time off work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the differences in the species, our dogs are doing stellar with Ruby. They sniff her when she is around and Picasso has licked her foot a few times. (The pediatrician advised against licking, but Ruby didn't burst into ashes so I suppose its fine). When I place her on the floor on the lava blanket, they leave her be. (I purchased a red blanket and called it lava. I informed the dogs when they step on it, that it is indeed hot lava. Loki still stubbornly puts a paw on the edge of it.) I wish I could say we spent time and effort making this great relationship happen, but honestly we forgot to do just about everything they recommend for introducing dogs to the baby. We left Ruby in the car seat downstairs and greeted the dogs alone, then brought her in. Seemed to work fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn_NCi25t0I/AAAAAAAAABk/fPJxWXFDras/s1600-h/20070618+-+Ruby+and+Picasso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn_NCi25t0I/AAAAAAAAABk/fPJxWXFDras/s320/20070618+-+Ruby+and+Picasso.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080004348297721666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Picasso does have one issue. He really really wants a job associated with the baby. So far he's brought us more shoes than ever when we are holding her and once her brought her baby lotion from the other room. So....any ideas on a good baby job for Picasso would be welcome. Not bringing the lotion, that could get messy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-7193807135047467076?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/7193807135047467076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=7193807135047467076' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7193807135047467076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7193807135047467076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/puppy-vs-baby.html' title='Puppy vs. Baby'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn_ODC25t1I/AAAAAAAAABs/hHz7daSLZP8/s72-c/20070618+-+Chrissy+and+Ruby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-5790561016326481664</id><published>2007-06-24T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T09:24:03.747-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Nos, My Baby's gots the Jaundice</title><content type='html'>I'm playing catch up with the events to date. Forgive the dates of the post not matching if you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6XNC25tvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/g-FevrTmSqY/s1600-h/20070615+ruby+under+lights.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6XNC25tvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/g-FevrTmSqY/s320/20070615+ruby+under+lights.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079663680081737458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second day in the hospital, the pediatrician practice sends the on call doctor to check out the newborns. He walked into our room and glanced at a sheet of small paper in his hand and said "Um, your baby seems perfectly healthy; where are you guys from?" After he left, Jamey and I looked at each other and declared it the least helpful conversation with a doctor ever, and it was obvious he had no clue which baby was ours. Thirty minutes later when Jamey and mom were in the other room, I got a phone call from the same doctor. He said "Oh yes, I forgot to mention your baby has jaundice and will need light therapy. The nurses are coming to get her now." (Mind you, we had sent Ruby to the nursery for the night and had only had her back 10 minutes when the call came.) He went on to explain that Ruby had a bilirubin level of 12 and there was no cause to worry until it is 20. This would be like me saying don't worry because it is 12 hot outside and it won't kill you until it is 20 hot. I mean what is the scale here? He also mentioned it is an extra bad case of jaundice because our blood types are different. Not sure what questions to ask, I hung up and debriefed mom and Jamey. The nurse came as promised and took Ruby off for what came to be her first day of two days of light therapy. Ruby got to test out her first eye wear accessory, a blindfold. EEK! Imagine not being able to see for nine months, then able to look around for a few hours, then being blindfolded. Who knows, maybe it was comforting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamey was my hero and went to the nursery to check on her several times and made sure that we got her for feedings. (Apparently, if you bottle feed, the nurses assume they can feed her instead of letting you bond.) Jamey completely charmed all the nursing shifts to the point where they knew him and would buzz him into the nursery as soon as they saw him in the camera. Now, I am a eternal optimist and there were several good things from the light therapy. Mom went to the mall and got me some walking pajamas (the ones I had packed were fine for walking around family but not the hospital) and I was motivated to get out of bed and get moving so I could see her sunbathing. Ruby did very well under the lights and learned to sleep by herself with no swaddling tricks or anything. Of course, there were issues too. To maximize skin exposure to the light, they didn't put a diaper on Ruby. All babies in the hospital wear a tag that sets off an alarm and turns off the elevator if they get close. At one point, when the nurse called for security to turn off her ankle tag with the quote "I've got this baby and there is crap everywhere!" Eventually, they were able to clean her off with Jamey's help. By day 2 the nurses had given up on no diaper and who could blame them? We were discharged late on Day 2 for maximum light time and Ruby finally got to go home with orders to sunbathe in indirect light several times a day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6Xgy25twI/AAAAAAAAABE/sB1ea6GFItQ/s1600-h/20070616+Ruby+comes+home.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6Xgy25twI/AAAAAAAAABE/sB1ea6GFItQ/s320/20070616+Ruby+comes+home.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079664019384153858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We winded up seeing 4 pediatricians in her first 5 days of life and I liked all but the first one. Our pediatrician is a very laid back guy but was able to explain why my blood type of O+ was an issue with her blood type of A+. The first two pediatricians were unable to answer my question of "If O+ is a universal donor to + blood types, why is her blood fighting it?". They gave me vague answers of "Infants are different." Mom's favorite pediatrician (because he was cute and a genuinely caring charismatic doctor and did I mention cute?) said he would look it up. Say what you want about medical advise from the Internet, but in the first few days that was (sadly) our best source for what was going on with our baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6Y4i25txI/AAAAAAAAABM/fYlANlge7wY/s1600-h/bilirubin1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6Y4i25txI/AAAAAAAAABM/fYlANlge7wY/s400/bilirubin1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079665526917674770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here were her bilirubin levels as an example of the path they can take. The three really low numbers are when she was under the light. The good news is that once the levels go down (and the liver is up and functioning) they don't go back up so the peak is what you try and control. I added the helpful scale that the doctors gave me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-5790561016326481664?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/5790561016326481664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=5790561016326481664' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5790561016326481664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5790561016326481664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/oh-nos-my-babys-gots-jaundice.html' title='Oh Nos, My Baby&apos;s gots the Jaundice'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rn6XNC25tvI/AAAAAAAAAA8/g-FevrTmSqY/s72-c/20070615+ruby+under+lights.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-5358737181266279028</id><published>2007-06-21T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T09:55:01.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Put the Hospitality in  Hospital</title><content type='html'>It will happen one day. Friends you assumed were rational logical fun-loving people will decide to have a baby. It will shock you and you may wonder why anyone would put themselves in the biggest ball and chain there is. Trust me, it is best not to question but accept. After all, they wonder why you own a cat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the majority of my friends being baby-free, they had a surprising skill for taking care of Jamey and I through the pregnancy and at the hospital. I got a lot of questions (which I had no clue how to answer) on what they should do for us in the hospital. Now that I have a better idea, I thought I would share some of the best things and worst things to do for your friends whose life has completely changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bring a basket of snacks. &lt;/strong&gt; The mom can't eat, but the lunch that we had optimistically packed for Jamey was long gone (and shared with my mom) by early evening when we had the baby. Jamey's mom brought some fantastic snacks which were lifesaver to Jamey and I later on in the stay as well. For the mom, pack good high fiber choices. Her bowels will have to get moving one day and the sooner the better. Apples, bananas, nuts and whole grain crackers work well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bring meals to the new parents.&lt;/strong&gt; Hospital food is still hospital food and is only provided to the mom who will watch others jealously as they eat the delicious offerings from the outside. My mom brought lifesaving coffee (yes, I know that violates the bowel moving philosophy, but nothing had ever tasted as good as the first completely guilt free cup of coffee in months) and breakfast every morning. Evan and Yvonne went out and got us Brio's and a bottle of fine wine one evening which was a welcome distraction to waiting for time to feed Ruby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Take Cues on When to Visit &lt;/strong&gt; Everyone seemed to show up at the perfect time and leave before there was ever any need to say we were tired. I was so impressed by that. We had a slightly different hospital stay since we actually had no baby in our room to care for. Ruby had jaundice and had to sit under the lights. Having friends stop by kept us from staring at the clock waiting for our next chance to see her. If you are bringing small children, save your visit for Day 2 of the hospital stay, not the delivery (more on that later) Again, if we had the baby in the room, I'm not sure what it would have been like so you just have to know your friends and be ready to not be offended if they seem tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DON'T&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Deliver Flowers&lt;/strong&gt; - This is actually a hard one for me to put in the don't column. I got two absolutely beautiful arrangements which did brighten the room and still look beautiful in my house a week later. However, it is a pain to get those home especially if you get multiples (arrangements not babies, if you have multiple babies, nothing can help you). It may be best to send them to the house once you know the couple and baby is getting discharged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bring your 2 year old to the delivery &lt;/strong&gt;- I know you want your child to experience the miracle of life, but a 1-2 day old baby is still new enough. No reason for the kids to come into the delivery right after mom is finished being sewn up. My energy levels were zero and having to tell people that a 2 year old is jumping up on the warming incubator the baby is in and about to turn it over is stress you don't need. Honestly, they won't remember this hospital visit anyway in the long run. Why not wait a day? In the 2-year old's defense, she did as good as a two year old possibly could do, Unfortunately, she was promised by mom that she could hold the baby. Since I had only held her 30 seconds, there was NO WAY I was passing her around until Jamey and I got to see her and let it sink in. Maybe the second time someone has a baby it would be ok. Maybe... BTW, some friends brought their kids Day 2 and it was just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Side Note: Some people are REALLY into the bows on the doors at the hospital. Consider it the very first display of trying to outparent your neighbor. Jamey and I did not care at all and were the only door in the hopital with nothing. If you think your friends will care about this popularity contest, by all means keep that in mind as a good gift and add it to your DO list. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for those of you still baby free, do what is best for your friends and you can't go wrong. Then go home to your cat, pick its poo out of the sand and realize humans are some of the strangest creatures on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnqsXy25ttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8bw1kBd6g-s/s1600-h/Smell+Graph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnqsXy25ttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8bw1kBd6g-s/s320/Smell+Graph.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078561054602671826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-5358737181266279028?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/5358737181266279028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=5358737181266279028' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5358737181266279028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5358737181266279028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/put-hospitality-in-hospital.html' title='Put the Hospitality in  Hospital'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnqsXy25ttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8bw1kBd6g-s/s72-c/Smell+Graph.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-7558069950804853522</id><published>2007-06-19T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T12:37:13.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Work than a Pizza</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RngtgC25tqI/AAAAAAAAAAU/LNbPYAKiXuM/s1600-h/20070614+Stacy+Starting+Labor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RngtgC25tqI/AAAAAAAAAAU/LNbPYAKiXuM/s320/20070614+Stacy+Starting+Labor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077858608406443682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh... the delivery. My idea of delivery was my husband strategically placed at my head where my calm pushing is greatly assisted by an epidural where I feel less pain than a root canal. Afterwards, I would hold my baby as visitors oohed and ahhhed over the baby and how great I look. Reality was just a tad different. First of all, a big shout out to modern medicine and the ability to induce labor. My physician and I picked June 14th. Although this ruined our Flag Day plans, I was happy to go a week early. Jamey and I played cards in the delivery room as contractions started. Once they were going good, I was offered some pain relief. I decided I could handle it and wait for the epidural. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we waited, the room got warmer and warmer. Deciding that the air conditioner was broken, they wheeled us out of the 90 degree room to another room. Meanwhile I clawed Jamey's hand every 3 minutes and tried to mimic the breathing of those women you see on TV. I think I more closely resembled a wheezing donkey. Once in the new room, I got the epidural and I must say...women who complain about the pain of the epidural really didn't wait long enough. It was nothing compared to the contractions by that point. The epidural kicked in and things immediately began to improve. My mom showed up and I told her to stay if she would like. She agreed (a decision I hope she later still approved of). Seems like my vision of an easy labor was coming true! Or not... The baby's heart rate started to get a bit stressed so I had to wear an oxygen mask. This is a difficult accessory to pull off at anytime, but I think I managed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rngtry25trI/AAAAAAAAAAc/2R8xh9PHaL4/s1600-h/20070614+Stacy+and+Oxygen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/Rngtry25trI/AAAAAAAAAAc/2R8xh9PHaL4/s320/20070614+Stacy+and+Oxygen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077858810269906610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the contractions got stronger, my happiness with how much I could move around with my epidural turned into horror as I realized it also implied I was going to feel more than I ever expected. After two boosts, there was little improvement. Now it came down to a choice. I was almost fully dilated and ready to go, they could try and redo the epidural or I could tough it out. I would like to say I bravely chose to tough it out, but honestly, my body made the decision and it was time to push. Modesty is pretty far out the window by now, but any remnants are completely removed by the pushing process. My mom helped hold one leg and my husband the other. Then I began to push every 2-3 minutes for 30 seconds each. That went on for 2 hours when they decided progress was not sufficient (gee, ya think?) and called the doctor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told to wait on my side and to take a break from pushing. Here's the interesting thing. The bits and pieces of me not numb from the epidural much preferred me to push. Having something to do felt much better. So I pushed on my side for a bit and waited for the doctor. Of course, rolling to my side caused me to vomit, but that is really small potatoes at that point. (by the way, the throw up bag looked like a really over sized condom with ribs, why is that better than a normal bag?) Well, pushing on my side must have dislodged something, because by the time the doctor got there, Ruby was moving again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor offered forceps to assist the still somewhat slow delivery. I readily agreed which seemed to confuse her. She was ready for a long defense of forceps and that they won't hurt the baby. My feeling is that you either trust your doctor or you don't. (BTW, having a really cute female doctor does not make you feel any prettier at this point, but you are so happy to see her that, just this once, you will forgive her for being adorable) So, the doctor put on her Darth Vader mask and grabbed her ice cream scoops and away we go. As the head was halfway out and we were waiting for the next contraction to finish, the doctor asked how I was doing. It was such an insane question that it jolted me out of my pain and brought out my natural sweet sarcastic self. "Oh, just great, let's just stop now shall we? This is fantastic." About now, mom and Jamey realize I am just fine. After the head was out I asked if I could keep pushing (I was so not waiting another 2 minutes) and the doctor said "Knock yourself out." If I had known that was an option, I would have done that at the beginning! Out came Ruby and the doctor held up my very own slightly alien looking bundle of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnguSS25tsI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2rfITuzONkw/s1600-h/20070614+Ruby+Out+Cropped.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnguSS25tsI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2rfITuzONkw/s320/20070614+Ruby+Out+Cropped.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077859471694870210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; No, other posts won't be this long, consider this one a catharsis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-7558069950804853522?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/7558069950804853522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=7558069950804853522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7558069950804853522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/7558069950804853522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/more-work-than-pizza.html' title='More Work than a Pizza'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RngtgC25tqI/AAAAAAAAAAU/LNbPYAKiXuM/s72-c/20070614+Stacy+Starting+Labor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861537654394528068.post-5111045991710015481</id><published>2007-06-19T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T07:07:36.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Begin the Begin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnfjDy25tpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5w1WlnHpj6Q/s1600-h/20070615+Ruby+and+Stacy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnfjDy25tpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5w1WlnHpj6Q/s320/20070615+Ruby+and+Stacy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077776759214683794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With much inspiration from my brother and sister-in-law and my friend Dawn, I now know that anybody with a keyboard and two thoughts in their head can start a blog. So far, I hadn't felt the need myself, but last week my daughter Ruby was born and I started a new chapter in my life. My friends Atlee and Amanda write a letter to their children at the end of each year and will give it to them on their 18th birthday. An awesome idea, but I'm a horrible letter writer. So in the interest of not forgetting these first forays into parenthood, I decided on a blog as the best method of documenting my (and my husband Jamey's) complete ineptness when it comes to child rearing! I don't promise to update daily, but I will try my best to get in at least one post a week. (insert Scarlett O'Hara impersonation here) While I can't promise the savior fare of my brother's writing, I can promise lackadaisical spelling and maybe some insight into what its like when a 32 year old logical problem solver decides to take on the completely illogical process of raising a human being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5861537654394528068-5111045991710015481?l=cooking-mama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/feeds/5111045991710015481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5861537654394528068&amp;postID=5111045991710015481' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5111045991710015481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5861537654394528068/posts/default/5111045991710015481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cooking-mama.blogspot.com/2007/06/begin-begin.html' title='Begin the Begin'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05761356672592078115</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H1MDXVxlELM/RnfjDy25tpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5w1WlnHpj6Q/s72-c/20070615+Ruby+and+Stacy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
