Winter Soups: French Onion Soup...and Quick Quiche

C'est moi a long time ago.

Bonjour!

I'm glad you dropped by my virtual potluck today because Mari Farthing is visiting. We met at the first table reading of the Listen to Your Mother OKC.  You may remember her from our summer party or her blogs at Oklahoma Women Bloggers, Music Mamas and Mari's Virtual Notebook.

Today, she brought a little bit of France with her. The recipe is fancier than I usually attempt, but it is French, and who can say non to that? Mari is nice and didn't make fun of me at all when I asked her what it meant to make an onion "sweat" and what the difference between stock and "broth" are. In case you are as challenged as I am in the kitchen, I added some links to explain these culinary quandaries further, and realized it really is pretty easy. If you already know all the cooking terminology, then skip the links and feel smug.

Bon appétit! 

I'll leave you and Mari to chat....

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago (i.e., before kids), my husband and I were blessed to live in Europe for four years, courtesy of the USAF. During this time, we were able to travel all around the continent and see as much of the world as we could. The final trip we went on was to the Normandy region of France, where we could visit places that would meet both of our wants—the landing beaches of DDay, the American WWII cemetery and Caen war memorial for him; Monet’s home in Giverny and Le Mont Saint Michel for me.

It was a gorgeous trip; as I recall it now (as one is wont to do), the weather was agreeable, the locals were gracious and still effusively thankful and happy to see Americans (which, to be honest, was something of a rarity in France). This trip stands out from all the others because it was our last time to travel before returning stateside. We still didn’t know where we were heading, so there was an excitement in the air—adventures awaited us.

On that first stop in Giverny, we had a bit of free time and stopped at a café—that’s something that Europe does with aplomb. Even the tiniest of villages has a café (or two) with character and outdoor tables that provide the best possible entertainment in the form of people watching. As we perused the menu at this café, using our limited knowledge of French language to navigate the offerings, we found the perfect lunch: French onion soup and quiche.

I realize now that perhaps I should have chosen a less perfect meal, as the soup and quiche were so well done as to eclipse all other attempts at this treat. On second thought, nah. I’ll never be sorry for that lunch eaten on the street at a café in a small town in France. I hope to someday repeat the experience!

Magical Meal Combination

I’ve since made both quiche and French onion soup in my own kitchen, and if you throw in a salad of baby greens with a mustard vinaigrette, you’ve got a pretty perfect lunch. Even better if eaten al fresco with a nice glass of wine.

Special Tricks...bonus recipe!

Quiche is very easy—I like to make it on a day when I’m also cleaning out the fridge. If I’ve got leftover eggs, leftover vegetables, some type of protein and shredded cheese? There will be quiche. 

I make mine in a muffin tin, no crust required. Spray the cups with oil, portion out your fillings and fill the cups to about ¾ full with a beaten egg mixture (about 6 eggs with a splash of milk or cream if you so desire). Bake at 350 for 30 minutes or so and freeze what you don’t eat.

But back to the soup! Here is a good basic recipe that I’ve put together, inspired by my dad’s recipe and celebrity chef Anne Burrell. It’s a worth-the-wait soup that has few ingredients but results in an amazingly rich soup to warm you on a cold winter’s night.

French Onion Soup

6-8 large onions, thinly sliced into rings
¾ cup red wine (something you like to drink)
4 bay leaves
small bunch of fresh thyme
2 quarts of chicken stock
salt and pepper to taste

Coat the bottom of a large pot with olive oil and add the onions. Sprinkle with plenty of salt and stir well. Turn heat on medium, cover and let onions (I used half white and half yellow because that’s what I had) sweat for about 15-20 minutes.

before the onions sweat

sweating onions

Onions should now be very soft. Cook uncovered for about an hour until onions become reduced, browned and sweet. If you’ve seen Chef Burrell make this soup, you’ve heard her assert that there is no shortcut to this; you must take the time and let the flavors develop.

Add the wine and let it reduce for about 15 minutes. Add the bay leaves, thyme and chicken stock. I prefer to add my stock warmed because I’m usually defrosting it when I make the soup. Simmer again for another hour or so (the soup will look somewhat purple when you start this part, but mellow out to a lovely, rich brown after cooking). Season with salt and pepper to taste (the onions do become surprisingly sweet after cooking). If the soup seems too thick, add a bit of chicken stock to thin it down a bit.

To serve, ladle soup into a stoneware bowl, top with a lovely slice of crusty bread (croutons can work here quite well), grated cheese, and broil until the cheese gets bubbly.

Bubbly cheese. That’s the magic right there.

Magic Onion Soup
served with a Malbec
& toasted ciabatta bread and brie from Whole Foods

Freeze it if you don’t eat it all right away!

Summer Salads: Heather Ezell

For those of you who regularly read my blog, you'll know Heather Ezell from Hang Zen yoga on Lake Tenkiller or this post about SUP yoga, this post from Oklahoma Women Bloggers and this post about Inklings 2013 summer retreat. 

She's cool.  She's fun.  She's adventuresome.

I was thrilled when Heather finally decided to start a blog because she has a variety of interests.  I'm hoping to live vicariously through her travels.  Heather's also a bit of a foodie and loves wine. These traits I can aspire to, but...she also flips houses.  (Will I learn some DIY pointers for my home so I can dazzle the hubby with some yet-to-be-learned mad skills?) I'm looking forward to reading more of Heather Ezell's Never Zending Story.

I'm happy you joined us today for the last guest post of the Summer Salad series. Check out what Heather brought to the virtual potluck.

 For me, Salads are a staple. Whether I'm cooking something only for
myself, the two of us, or for a crowd, I almost always have a salad of
some sort. As well, it is not unheard of for me to do more than one.
They're light, delicious and versatile. I DO love a salad. I have many
that are included in my rotation but this one may be my favorite. (It
is often requested when people come to visit.) It's simple and
elegant. Also during this time of year, the ingredients are fresh and
in abundance. Most of the time, I use what I have grown in either mine
or my neighbors' garden.

Tomato, Basil and Mozzarella Salad

AKA Fancy Name: Caprese Salad

Ingredients list: (Tip--the fresher, the better)

Tomatoes--your favorite variety, or whatever you have on hand from the
garden, the farmer's market, etc.

~ Do not refrigerate tomatoes. It will zap the flavor.

Basil--a bunch or a handful

Mozzarella--Fresh is vital for this recipe. I generally use buffalo
mozzarella packed in water.

Olive oil

Balsamic Vinegar

Greens--again whatever is fresh and available. Sometimes I use spinach
or microgreens or whatever I find at the farmer's market.

Directions:

Pour a glass of wine. (Or sparkling/mineral water) Slice tomatoes and
mozzarella according to your preference. Sip beverage.

Take basil and stack it from largest to smallest leaf. Roll it up in a
tight package. Run knife through, cutting small ribbons into the herb.
It is best to only do this once and no more than twice to avoid
obliterating the basil and turning it into mush. Voila'! This is known
as a chiffonade. (Fancy French cooking term)

Take another sip.

Place greens in individual bowls or a serving dish. Layer tomatoes and
cheese alternating each. I prefer even amounts but it's up to you if
you would rather have more tomatoes vs. mozzarella or vice versa.
Sprinkle basil ribbons over everything.

Sip.

Now lightly dress with a good quality olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Sip.

Now, bon appetit!

Magical Meal Combination
When choosing a wine to pair with this salad think, light. A Reisling
or a Pinot Noir would both be appropriate. You want to take a walk on
the wild side? Give a Spanish Rioja-Crianza a whirl.

Friday Favorite: Giveaway and Getaways

I have some cool news: My blog was mentioned in the Muskogee Phoenix.  Earlier this summer I wrote about Glamping at Girl Camp on Oklahoma Women Bloggers, and it is a hot topic right now. Click here for your how-to-glamp guide.

You know how Hollywood always chooses younger, prettier actresses to portray real-life people?  The Muskogee Phoenix kindly does the same thing.  Valarie Olson's photograph was featured in the article this morning and showed our pal Moria Kinsey playing...me.

Here's a link to John Kilgore's article in the Muskogee Phoenix about Camping for those not so inclined to camp. Check it our for some great glamping websites.

Photo of the article: The lovely Moria Kinsey is playing me in the photo above.

If you are looking for a weekend getaway close to home, glamping might be just right for you.

Of course, if you don't want to leave the house at all, you can grab some Wailani's Body Scrub and have a mini Hawaiian spa experience in your own shower. Thank you to everyone who entered and shared your ideal weekend getaway.

And now...

through the magic of random.org...

I'd like to congratulate Peggy for winning the mango and green tea scrub! Thank you for telling us about your grownup slumber party experience.

Email your address to brandi at brandibarnett.com, and I'll mail your prize as soon as possible. Please drop by my blog and visit again soon.

Summer Salads: Lisa Czlonka

Garrett and I discussed this weekend how blessed we are to have met so many nice people in our small town. Like us, many of them are not from here but have made a home in this little community at the foothills of the Ozarks.

Lisa Czlonka is one of these people who is a looooong way from where she grew up: Hawai'i.

Lisa Czlonka

 How lucky am I to have a friend who throws luaus in landlocked Oklahoma?! Really. She had a luau for her baby girl's first birthday. 

I thought Garrett went back for seconds of the Kalua pig, but he confessed to thirds.  Thirds. Garrett. 

Ya'll, kalua pig made my taste buds hula.

Lisa offers many special tricks with this recipe that she makes it sound simple. So simple you might want to throw your own luau. If not, you'll certainly wow everyone at the next potluck.


Lisa Czlonka's Kalua Pig
 
In Hawai’i, a typical drive-in restaurant will serve plate lunches, which essentially is a meat, rice, and mac salad.  In more recent years, the mac salad can be replaced by a side salad…well maybe you could do that awhile ago, but who was counting carbs in high school?!

So, I’m taking a little liberty with the salad share and really introducing you to a Hawaiian favorite, kalua pig.  As my husband would say, "Kalua pig on any salad makes the salad better."

Magical Meal Suggestion

Keep it simple and get a premix salad. Pictured is one that includes baby spinach because I love to get the extra punch of antioxidants.  Add whatever vegetables you’d like.  If you’re going fancy, you can use a ramekin to form a border for your salad from tomatoes or cucumbers.  

The white rice can be found in the Asian section of your local grocer.  You could replace this with brown rice to be healthier, but I’m just trying to introduce you to the traditional way it’s served in Hawaii.  Loading your fork or chopsticks with a little rice and kalua pig makes a nice flavor balance.   

But enough talk, let’s get to the recipe…and no it doesn’t involve digging a huge hole in your backyard, though traditionally a full pig is cooked in an underground oven called an imu (pronounced EE-moo).

 

Kalua Pig (~24 servings)

8 lbs. bone in pork butt (shoulder)

3.5 oz. liquid smoke

4 T Hawaiian salt

Oven Bag

Make sure your rack is set on the lowest level in your oven.  Preheat oven to 350. 

If your pork has a thick layer of fat, be sure to trim as much off as possible.  Or better yet, if you can remember when you're at the store, ask the butcher. 

With a paring knife, score the pork on all sides and then rub with the Hawaiian salt; use enough to cover all sides.  Don’t try to use imitation salt. I did once and it turned out bad.  If your local grocer doesn’t carry Hawaiian salt, ask and they may bring it in or go with the good ol' Amazon.  Put the pork in the oven bag and dump in the liquid smoke.  Make sure all sides get covered by turning the pork over in the bag.   

Blow air into the bag and close with the tie provided. I recommend cutting the excess bag so that you leave only a couple inches above the tie, as the bag will expand in the oven and you don’t want the bag to touch the top of the oven and melt.  

Place bag in a shallow roasting pan and cook for 4 hours. Remove from the oven and let cool for a bit and then shred the pork (you can use two forks).  Pour some of the liquid from the bag over the pork, which is really important in helping not to dry out the meat in case you want to freeze leftovers.

Aloha!


Check back this Friday for a give away that will keep you in the spirit of the islands.

Hint: 

Wailani's Body Scrub

For the love of ... knicknacks

Grandma worried about me.

She had a china cabinet stacked with teetering towers of coffee mugs from places she'd visited.  My brother had a bulletin board filled with pins about politics, bands, or silly sayings.  My mom even had a display of thimbles from different states.

I collected diddlysquat.

Grandma decided I was to collect spoons.

It soon became clear to me that these spoons weren't used for cooking or eating or anything else.  They had no soul. They were made to sell.

So my well-intentioned Grandma went on her trips and brought me back spoons. One with a hula girl.  One with the Statue of Liberty. Spoons.

I preferred money. 

Only after I realized that it could be seen as a detriment did I discover I did collect something.  I had a little tin of coins people gave me from their travels.  A peso.  A Canadian penny.  A buffalo nickel. I wondered about all the people who had held them and what purchase had caused them to part ways.

My coins had soul.

But by the time I realized I did collect something, Grandma was too invested in the spoons.

Now, I don't collect coins.

Or spoons.

But I still collect stories.

Writer's Wednesday: Follow Your Passion

My husband and I are passionate. When you've been together as long as we have, life can get pretty dull.  Not for us. We always have something new and exciting to bring to the table.

He loves riding.
I love writing.
We're passionate.

Always my biggest supporter, he encourages me to take my work to the next level.   He challenges me when I wimp out in my storytelling just as he does when I do it in life. He's a competitor and wants me to be as well. He wants me to be the best I can be.

Let's be honest. He wants a Maserati, but I know I'm not JK Rowling even if he hasn't accepted that fact.

He's not a professional rider, but his determination is unmatched. He rides every day--and is pretty cranky if he misses a ride.  If he didn't get time during the day, he'll wait until the kids go to bed and ride until midnight. Last summer, 3AM rides were a regular occurrence. Nothing gets in his way because he loves riding and wants to be better. 

He started the season with a 50 mile bike tour in Oklahoma City at the Redbud last weekend. (He considers this a short ride. I would consider it hell on wheels.) We arrived in town just as a tornado hit Norman, OK.  Wind advisories were announced. However, he didn't waiver and finished those miles in about 2 hours.

I should take a page from his book. (Er, mile from his ride?) With his perseverance any writer would succeed--no matter the obstacles.

Even if I don't get that Maserati, I'll know I did my personal best while having fun. And that's worth a lot.

But I wouldn't say no to a Pulitzer.

Capuchin See Capuchin Do

My friend Bre and I recently took our sons to Wild Wilderness Drive-Through Safari in Gentry, Arkansas.

That's right.  It's a safari in Arkansas.

We spent the morning at the petting zoo, enjoyed a picnic lunch, and drove through the safari.  A variety of critters from kangaroos to rhinos greeted us...

...but my son claims the best parts were trying to pet (chase) the baby pig and riding a pony.

My favorite part was meeting a little primate pal.

As we approached, the caregiver was saying, "...oh, no. He doesn't let people hold him. He's known me a long time. That's why he lets me."

I'd no sooner stopped moving than the little creature leapt from the guy's neck and was looking up at me from my feet, his tiny paws hugging my leg.  He blinked as if to say, "May I?" I laughed and he took that as permission to climb me. He scampered up so quickly, I hardly knew what was happening.

Capuchin on my back!

Check out the kiss he gives my shoulder. Max isn't sure what to think of it!

I feel special!

If you're not too far away, visit this little treasure.  Children love it, but you're never too old to pet a baby goat or monkey around.

Writer's Wednesdsay: Books and Travel

Books take us places we've never been. But they also inspire us to see those places for ourselves.

I was downright giddy when I found the spot where Shakespeare's Globe had stood.  Going inside the replica was almost as cool.

My friend Ange is in Asia now. I remember she was a big fan of Amy Tan. Plus, I know we read The Good Earth in high school. Hmm.  Definitely need to know if literature influenced her desire. She was a big fan of The Lord of the Rings, and after watching the movies, she went to New Zealand.

My friend Sonia travels to Oxford with her husband every year, and she's a huge fan of English literature and television.

My friend Stephanie had to go to Italy after watching/reading Under the Tuscan Sun.

My mother has traveled the world, but before she did, she longed to see the antebellum mansions of the South due to great books like Gone With the Wind .

Have you ever traveled anywhere because a book made you want to go?

Friday Favorite: Miss(ed) Oklahoma

Although she is queen of her domain, my friend Jennifer lives in a neighborhood of princesses and a home of four princes.  When a queen summons, I do her bidding.

She invited me to attend the Miss Oklahoma pageant in Tulsa to support her lovely neighbors. One was contestant Emily Ousley and the other was her "Oklahoma Star," a program in which little girls are mentored by contestants. They were both lovely.

Plus, I saw two OU Tri-Deltas were in the running, so I got all collegiate nostalgic. 

Although we almost missed the pageant.

On the way there, Jen said, "If anyone were with us, they'd kill us."

Yep.  But it was hilarious.

After spending an afternoon with me driving us to pedicures and tea at Dragonmoon Tea Company, Jennifer insisted on driving. She activated her On Star and said, "You have to get this."

Clearly, she didn't yet comprehend the magnitude of my geographical challenges. Like the Bermuda Triangle, my curse soon reached out and grabbed her.  We barreled down the interstate, following the instructions, and encountered a giant "CLOSED" sign plastered across our route.  I laughed at her surprise. This sort of thing always happened to me. She called and gathered new directions. We were to turn on 11th street. Guess what? We were at an intersection where both signs said 11th street. I kid you not. These things happen to me all the time. It's a gift.

The pageant began at 7:30. The rain began at 8:04.  We arrived in the parking lot at 8:08. As we raced toward the Mabee Center, a woman eyeballed us.   I called, "Did we miss the good part?" (Since I've never attended a pageant, I didn't know what that would be, but certainly there is one.)  She encouraged us to hurry because we'd missed the opening number and they were about to announce the top 15.

We never found our seats, but we caught a lot of the show.

In fact, I fear we were part of the show. A pregnant lady in heels.  A tired mom of three under three lugging a good-natured four-month-old. We found seats near her friends at one point, but because Baby J wasn't fond of classical music in the talent competition, we courteously sped out. Let me restate that...Jennifer was courteous. I'm pretty sure I bonked some poor guy on the head with both my purse and her diaper bag.

While watching the swimsuit competition from the aisle, an older gentleman must have been impressed with the soon-to-be crowned Betty Thompson.  He looked me up and down. "Those girls don't understand women don't look like that after thirty."  Hackles raised, I threw my shoulders back and pregnant belly forward.  "Speak for yourself.  After I had my first baby, I looked just like that." I patted my tummy. "You ought to see me next summer when I'm through with this one." 

He had the nerve to grimace like he didn't believe me.

To his credit, I checked myself out in the mirror before I left for the evening and thought remember when someone told you you looked hot, and you knew they weren't thinking you needed an air conditioner and glass of iced tea?

Still... Even queen mothers should be treated with respect or they can be be a royal pain.

Toddler Tuesday: childhood summer

 

My son loves his twin (second) cousins.  They love him, too. It's a win-win.  

At the end of the month, my cousin and her family are moving to Belgium.  "The girls" will soon turn eleven, and my two-year-old son adores them. Perhaps he's young enough to not realize they're soooo far away.  And why should he? We can learn to Skype.   

My husband and I are so thrilled that their family has this opportunity. They are such a good age to see that the world is much smaller than most people suspect.

And we know they'll return as often as they can--after all, we have the draw of my kids and a great-grandma who lives two blocks away.  We hope to travel to Belgium in a couple of years when our children are older (as in both actually born). 

Recently, we gathered for a farewell visit, and my cousin Kathy snapped this photo with my iPhone. The sun was setting, but the kiddos are all looking forward together.  Is there symbolism in this or what?

 

Although this time in your life is coming to an end, relish the new beginning. We love you all and wish you the best!

Journal: Write about childhood summers or a childhood visit with a cousin.

Plans for the weekend?

If you don't have plans for the weekend, plan a trip to Tahlequah, OK.

Come see me.

I'll be at the Eastern Oklahoma Author Fest with a multitude of other authors from 9-3. You can purchase personalized copies of books--even Glamour.
Books are great Christmas gifts!

Plus, if you are an aspiring author looking for extra training, some of us have volunteered our time to offer free (yes, FREE) writing workshops. Click here for a list of offerings.

My workshop is usually a 1-3 hour workshop that I've shortened to 30 minutes, but it will still be chock full of useful information. Cross my heart.

B&B with a cuppa tea

Bed and Breakfasts often leave me feeling as if I paid too much to stay at someone's dilapidated home just to eat a breakfast I don't have to cook.

Not anymore.

We found one that is posh. Downright posh, I tell you. The only reason I left was because my heart tugged in the direction of my toddler. Two Hearts Inn isn't cramped or old. That all-too-familiar musty smell of B&Bs lingered nowhere, and I never wondered if the pipes were up to code. Plus, the bed was comfy, not lumpy like so many of those kitty cat-smelling, Victorian over-decorated alternatives. After breakfast, I strolled down to a park area below my balcony and lounged for hours with a book and my computer.

And that's not even the best part.

Two Hearts Inn is connected to Inspirations Tea Room, which rivals most tea rooms in the country. I've been to Inspirations many times, but this week was the first time I had tea for two with my hubby. It was perfect.

If you plan to be in the Oklahoma City/Edmond area, definitely try out Two Hearts Inn and/or Inspirations Tea Room. You will not be disappointed.

Note: I swear I'm not related to the owners or getting paid. I'm just a fan of good things.

Journal: Festival

I grew up in a town that was in the Guiness Book of World Records and Trivial Pursuit.

Why?

Pecan pie.

As a kid, I attended Okmulgee's annual Pecan Festival. Every year, an enormous pie plate blocked main street. Yes, the entire street. The sun, a giant pan and foil combined to cook--more or less--the world's largest pecan pie each year. Lots of people claimed that once they took home their glob of pie and cooked it a little while that it tasted really good. I've never been a pecan pie fan, so I took their word for it.

Still, I love the excitement of small town festivals. Aside from going to Walmart, it's the one chance you have of running into old friends in a small town.

Journal: Write about a festival.

Stilwell Strawberry Festival

When G and I travel, we like to do tourist-y activities and then observe the local wildlife. We prefer to eat and hang out with the natives. Even though we miss friends when they move away, we're always excited we have another potentially cool place to visit. Seeing an area with someone who lives there never fails to enlighten.

If you visit eastern Oklahoma during May, you should definitely attend the Stilwell Strawberry Festival Parade. It's not Wrigleyville in Chicago during a Cubbies game. It's not Melbourne during an Australian football game. It's not NYC after a Broadway show.

But Adair County Oklahoma is different--with a flavor all its own.

They have more princesses than Disney World. Of course, the Stilwell Strawberry Festival Queen had a float, as did her three runners-up. But there were also the princesses and courts of Cinco de Mayo, Cherokee Nation, Keetoowah Band of the Cherokees, Winter, and Loyalty. (I still don't know what those last two are, but one of the little princesses wore a fluffy dress and waved from the hood of a car with a Confederate flag as her cushion. No kidding.) That's a lot of royalty.

Bands played. Politicians kissed babies. Lollipops, doodads, and propaganda were distributed. What looked to be a homemade armored vehicle for the local police rolled down the street with smiling teens lounging atop it. A firetruck's siren sounded periodically. Police cars flashed lights. A bearded lady from the carnival kept trying to steal from our diaper bag.

The parade ended with the rodeo crowd. We smelled the horses before we saw them. Hundreds of them. Many of the parade riders were real cowboys, not just the weekend, country-dancing kind. And these modern cowboys had their royalty, too. In fact, my cousin's daughter was the Rodeo Princess.

Clocking in at an hour and forty minutes long, the festival parade was still shorter than the Rose Bowl Parade at two and half hours. Unlike watching the Rose Parade, however, I never grew bored. Trust me. If you ever visit, you won't either, because you won't know what to expect.

And word has it that the strawberries are good this year.

Brrrranson

We toured the Titanic museum when the temperature in Branson was about the same as the temperature of the water on that fateful night back in 1912. When we entered the exhibit, the tour guide suggested we touch an iceberg display. I'm sure it was impressive in the summer, but I had my down coat and lined leather gloves on. The weather outside had prepared me. It also made an impression on me as to just how cold and frightening it must have been for all those people who were awakened in the middle of the night on a ship they thought was unsinkable.

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the museum. It was fascinating. The tour guides were dressed like members of the crew and were soooo polite. Seriously, they were probably as courteous as those on the ship itself.

They were full of interesting facts, too. For example, did you know that the black and white floors of that beautiful staircase--a replica was made for the movie--were linoleum? Linoleum! On the glitzy Titanic. It was new and modern, and so it was installed as part of the ship's first class fancy floors.

Washington DC day 1

We took a road trip to Washington D.C. last week. Congress was in session and everyone was trying to figure out how to handle the economic situation. We, however, were tourists.

We spent the first morning trying to take a tour of the city's memorials. Apparently, there is a fabulous trolley tour that you can hop on and hop off of around the city for 35 bucks/person. We stood in line for at least half an hour. While Max and I hung out, Garrett went to Starbucks and returned. I downed a chai frappucino before we reached the front of the line. They assured us that taking a stroller on board wouldn't be a problem.

Yeah, right.

We went outside and stood in yet another line. We missed the first trolley because it was rather crowded, and we didn't think we could break down the stroller in time. Soon, another trolley arrived, but we weren't fast enough. People raced past us as we wrestled with the stroller and all of our baby stuff. The trolley was full and we were left standing on the sidewalk with our useless tickets and time wasted.

Garrett said, "I knew this wasn't going to work."

That did it.

"You did, huh?" I snapped, "Well, you should have said something earlier."

My husband isn't one to complain much, so I should have just ignored it. I'm sure he'd already ignored several of my snide remarks by that point.

Even so, I took off with Max and the stroller, and Garrett must have thought I was crazy. I marched us right up to the line we'd stood in for so long and started selling our tickets. Guess what? No Americans carry cash these days. I'd reached a mother and daughter visiting from Italy before I was able to sell the tickets. I'm sure everyone thought I was some sort of lunatic ticket scalper using my baby as an angle.

Still, the morning wasn't a complete waste. Check out who we met in Union Station:



After fortifying ourselves with lunch, we hopped on the Metro again and headed toward the Mall. Garrett had downloaded an app to our iPhones that located all the station stops and told us how to get there with GPS technology. It was cool and helpful. After a stressful morning, we finally arrived.

We saw where Forrest Gump ran into the Reflecting Pool.
We saw the Lincoln Memorial.
We saw the Vietnam Wall.
We saw the WWII Memorial.
We saw the Washington Monument.

We saw other memorials as well. D.C. really is a beautiful city. A line from America the Beautiful kept playing through my head as we walked around: "Thine alabaster cities gleam...."

Journal: travel

My friends are getting married in Paris today. I wish I could be there. Congrats, you guys!

I love Paris.

I've always loved the idea of Paris.

A long time ago, my grandmother asked me where I wanted to go on vacation. At six years old, I immediately responded, "Paris."

I took French in high school so that I could speak it when I one day had the opportunity to visit. When Garrett and I went, it came in handy. We enjoyed the culture, the food, the sights...everything.

I definitely want to return. And a wedding would have been a good reason, but I'd hate to go into labor somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. My French isn't good enough to say, "Take me to Nice and get me Angelina and Brad's doctor. I want to deliver at the same hospital as the twins."

Journal: Write about visiting a foreign land.