An unexpected pleasure....

On Monday morning, while diligently working in my office, the Englishman popped in and asked if I would like to go to lunch. My "to do" list that day was miles long, but I didn't hesitate to say yes. Because I have finally learned that spending time with my loved ones is the better choice. That if I don't wash the floor today or rake the leaves, those those things will eventually get done. And if they don't, that's ok too.

When I enquired where we were lunching, the Englishman got a huge grin on his face and said he had found a new Indian restaurant nearby. The Englishman loves a hot curry with the same fervor I feel for chocolate.

When we first entered The Brick Lane Curry House, we were feeling a little skeptical. There was an overwhelming smell of ammonia, as they were still mopping the floor. We quickly noted we were the only patrons. The Englishman suggested we go somewhere else but I was hopeful that it would all turn out well. Actually, it far exceeded our expectations!

When I was growing up, the only curry I had was when my mother made curried shrimp. Which was a simple white sauce with added curry powder. The Englishman has vastly broadened my culinary experiences since we met. I have become more adventurous, but do draw the line when it comes to hot sauces that cause me to gasp for air or have tears running down my face.

So I ordered the mild chicken tika masala, while he had a vindaloo sauce. Our meal was fabulous! We had the lunchtime special which included our main dish, rice, naan bread, two side dishes and dessert. All for ten dollars each! The service was also excellent. The waiter said they have only been opened for two weeks, but hope that word will spread. I assured him I would do my part. Later research found they are a chain, also located in several spots in Manhattan and Montclair, as well as the new location we went to in Ridgewood.

Now I know this post is getting longer, but I cannot fail to mention the rest of our outing. The Englishman and I strolled hand and hand down the main street of the town. We popped in a toy shop and made a purchase for Baby C's Christmas gift. And then ,we saw it. The cupcake shop I've been longing to patronise since sampling a bite of heaven at daughter #2's house. As I went to open the door, the Englishman said, "Oh shame. They're closed on Monday's". Fortunately I immediately detected that "That English sense of humor" and walked right in. The vision of cupcakes before me was overwhelming! But I zeroed right in on the chocolate mousse ones. After selecting additional cupcakes for family and paying for my purchases, I pointed out to the Englishman which cake would be appropriate for my birthday. Which doesn't roll around for several months. But I want him to be prepared with the proper information. I know he would hate to disappoint me!

Oh, right. I believe it's called The Cupcake Carousel. I just know it's the one next to the movie theatre. About a fifteen minute drive. Maybe ten, without traffic and exceeding the speed limit. Depends how desperate I am.

Happy Birthday, M !

Today my darling granddaughter, M, turns 3!  Where has the time gone?  As her mother says, she is a proper little girl now - no longer a struggling toddler.  And the joy and love I feel in my heart for her grows along with her!

I remember the day she was born.  As my daughter placed her in my arms, I gazed down at her and thought, "She looks so familiar.  And I didn't have to do anything!"  No pregnancy, no morning sickness, no childbirth.  And here was this tiny creature, who so resembled her mother and two aunts.  And all I had to do was hold her and love her.

So Happy Birthday, Little Miss - as your English Grandad calls you.  Thank you for bringing pure, absolute joy into my life.  You are truly a gift!

Before and after.....

As it happens, I can show you a "before"  dining room picture with a photo of our Thanksgiving table as it was coming together.

When we bought this house, one half of the first floor had been converted into small offices for a chiropractor.  After much work, we were able to restore the back entrance, the dining room, and a small office for me.  The pictures below show one corner area in the dining room that we worked on.

Thanksgiving dinner with our family was wonderful!  The Englishman cooked a fantastic meal (yes, I am that lucky -  he cooks!)  We celebrated the engagement of daughter #3, shared many laughs and cuddles with our granddaughters.  Our blessings are far too numerous to count!

I hope that everyone enjoyed the day and that gratitude still fills your heart!

We are happy to announce.....

The Englishman and I are thrilled to announce the engagement of daughter #3 to the love of her life!

They are perfect for each other!

And most importantly, this girl has given her blessing:

Details are yet to be decided.  The happy couple is still grinning from ear to ear.  Will pin them down in the nearby future for plans.

Thursday's thought for the day....

Just found this on someone's blog.  This is so true for me.  When my desk becomes covered with a blanket of papers, magazines and notes, I see it as a sign that I am slowly losing control over my surroundings.  And my life.  I know, despite many a struggle with it, that in reality there is so little that is actually in my control.  But my house and belongings are.  So last night I did a thorough sweep of my desk and can now see the surface.  Sometimes that's all it takes to turn things around and bring even a smidgen of calm to my soul.

Next? The kitchen.  With Thanksgiving looming, best to gain some control over that too.

Here we go again.....

They're back!  Yes, the Basset Brigade has reunited and are in my charge for the week while the Englishman and daughter #1 are away on business.

Now, I would like to say that this is how we look as we walk down the road:

But alas, this morning, while attempting to "walk" the two most energetic of the group, we actually looked more like this:

You can't believe the strength inside these stubby legged dogs!  It took everything I had to keep from flying down the sidewalk and into the construction site at the bottom of the hill.  Good thing I didn't have on roller skates!

And now it is raining.  Pouring with rain.  So fingers crossed that all the pent up energy has been dispelled and we can get through till bedtime.  Six and a half hours from now.  Yes. Yes, I am counting......

But in truth, look at these faces.  How could I possibly ever get upset with them?  They are all so sweet, eager to please and simply wanting to be loved.  So I've decided it's ok if we don't accomplish anything today.  Some days are for just being with "my boys" and counting my blessings.  (Besides, I did get my "Grandmom" fix earlier this morning with snuggles with my granddaughters.  So, "I'm good" as they say.)

Dudley

Bentley

Barney

Oliver

*Dudley and Bentley are the loves of the Englishman and I

*Barney and Oliver live with their Mommy, daughter #1

Tip for a Tuesday....

Just a note....

When I was in grammar school, my mother would pack me a special lunch on my birthday.  She would put in a birthday napkin and a note reminiscing about the day I was born.  It always made me feel so special.  When I became a mother, I decided to take that one step further.

Starting as young as pre-school, I would tuck notes in the girls backpacks.  If they weren't reading yet, I would write their name and draw a picture.  As they grew, I might wish them good luck on a test or presentation, or simply say "I love you".

But notes aren't just for kids.  The Englishman has been off on many business trips over the years.  I try to make sure to sneak a note into his suitcase or briefcase after he packs. (In fact, I stashed one in his bag this morning just before he left for the airport.)  When our girls were little, they would join in with their own special notes to Daddy.

Today's technology offers us numerous ways to be in touch, instantaneously.  But I still think there is something special about finding a hand-written note, with a reminder that someone is thinking about us and loves us.  Don't you agree?

Veterans Day

The Soldier 

It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, not the lawyer, who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves under the flag, and whose coffin 
is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.

                                                                                 By Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC

I love this poem - I "borrowed" it from daughter #2, who posted it on her blog this morning.  Being married to a former Marine, it is very dear to her heart.

I must admit that growing up Veterans Day had not always been particularly important to me. My parents explained about the significance, and my mother shared stories about World War II from her experiences during war time and the young men she knew who served.  My father did not serve in the military, due to a medical problem. A friend of mine's Dad had been at Pearl Harbor.  Anytime I had dinner at her house and her Dad would indicate he was going to talk about the war, the family would groan and say, "Oh no, not again!" and he would remain quiet.  Which is a shame, really.  When I was in the Seventh Grade, a boy in our class lost his brother in the Vietnam War.  I can still see the pain in his face when he came back to school, and that he wore his brother's green fatigue jacket for the rest of the term.  

We never quite seemed to get to World War II in our history books before the end of the school year.  So it wasn't until my nephew entered West Point and I felt a personal connection, that I gave the military much thought.  After September 11th, it all become much too real.

When I first went back to teaching Third Grade, daughter #1 had just left for college, following her cousin who had entered West Point that summer.  I set up a "college corner", a bulletin board with names and photos and had the students write letters to them in order to work on "letter writing skills".  The students were thrilled when they wrote back. After they graduated, and my nephew went off to the war in Iraq, our writing campaign focused on him and several of his friends who were also serving.  A couple of years later, we added the then fiance of daughter #2, a Marine.  I think our list of names eventually got up to almost a dozen soldiers and Marines, two of them women.  After their tours of duty, my nephew and son-in-law were gracious enough to come and visit the students, patiently answering their questions and telling them how much they appreciated their support.  I hope my former students will remember the cards and letters they sent.  I still have the responses we received.

"Thank you for your service" seems so inadequate when you think abou the sacrifices made by the men and women who have served in our military, and by the families who love and support them.  But the soldiers and Marines I've known didn't do it for the "thanks".  They did it because they believe in this country, and in freedom, and in rushing in to help when the call is made.  They don't look for anything in return.  Is that the definition of a hero?  I think so.  You?

Thursday's thought for the day....

"Expecting life to treat you well because you are a good person, is like expecting an angry bull not to charge you because you are a vegetarian."

                                                                                        Shari R. Barr

Ground Zero

My Englishman and I traveled into Manhattan today to see the 9/11 Memorial at Ground Zero.  He booked the visitor passes on September 11th and we thought it fitting that the first available date was 9/11.  (In Europe, they put the date first, followed by the month.)

It was a picture perfect day as we set off, each with our own thoughts.  There was concern when we encountered bumper to bumper traffic approaching the GW bridge.  The Englishman maneuvered the Mini Cooper expertly between the tractor trailers and we were soon buzzing down the West Side Highway.  He attributed it to luck, I to prayer.

We approached the Memorial, passes in hand.  The line wove around like a snake as we neared the entrance.  There is security everywhere, but it is all very orderly.  Everyone, for the most part, is silent.  We guessed that the majority of people on line were tourists.  

Two things struck me as we walked around the Memorial.  When I first looked over one of the walls of names into the pool, there was this incredibly strong feeling that the water was being sucked down into the dark hole, in the same manner in which the Towers collapsed and were pulled into the earth. The second, was this almost palpable sense of quiet and of peace.

We found the names of some of the dozen men the Englishman knew who died that day.  I thought about them, and then found myself thinking about their mothers. I can't imagine the pain they have endured. One lost her only child, the other lost both sons.  

They did it right, we both said as we left.  That's how we felt.  It's right and it's fitting.

As we drove away, I commented, "It's been ten years.  I've just seen it and I still can't believe it's happened."  The Englishman said simply, "But it has."

Tip for a Tuesday....

Due to rather poor planning on every one's part, the months of October straight thru until the end of January are chock full of birthdays and holidays. When I married the Englishman, packages needed to be sent to England well in advance of Christmas and birthdays, so by necessity, I learned to plan, shop and mail with the appropriate customs forms early.  Very early.

As our family increased in size, so did the number of gifts needed to be purchased, wrapped and presented. In addition, I used to volunteer to pick up gifts for my mother or in-laws to give.  The list started to grow by leaps and bounds.  Fast forward a few years....

I remember, quite clearly, descending the stairs one Christmas Eve, with several packages in my arms and thinking, "I hope I haven't duplicated anything Santa is bringing."  Seriously.  No lie. I actually thought that.

It wasn't until I walked several more steps into the living room that I caught myself and realized what I had come to. That's what happens when you tell a story so often you start to believe it's true. Do you think perhaps I was feeling just a tad stressed?

So how does one keep from duplicating what Santa is bringing? Or keep track of all the dozens of gifts that need to be purchased and sent?  A small notebook!  It has been my lifesaver.

"The Notebook",  my gift version, hides out in my bedroom.  I mark the entries by year with each of our daughter's names.  I write down every gift I purchase for them, trying to do it as I buy them.  I note size and color, and particulars if it is part of an ongoing collection.  This has proved a huge help in seeing that the girls are fairly equal in what they receive.  In the back of the notebook, I have kept lists of teacher gifts, gifts for dance teachers, troop leaders, etc.  I also make note of tips for the UPS driver, hairdresser and sanitation collectors.  This has saved me a lot of time and worry each holiday.  No strain to remember, it's all in the book.

The notebook can also serve to prevent that dreaded scene in which you suddenly realize that there is a present missing, which must be still hidden somewhere in the attic or basement. I double check the notebook on Christmas Eve to be certain all gifts are wrapped and placed beneath the tree. Phew!

So that's my tip.  A notebook in which to keep track of gifts, sizes, color preferences, etc. Gift giving simplified!
Happy shopping!

Oh no, I missed it!

You know that line in "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown", when Sally laments that Halloween is over and she missed it? That's how I feel about the month of October.  It is my absolute favorite month of the year. I wait all year for it. But October is over.  And I missed it.

The reason? It's been due, in large part, to a cough I've been battling.  It started off, as it does for most people, as a cold. But after lingering and becoming more persistent each day, I finally threw in the towel and called the doctor.  Long story shortened, he was backed up with patients so it was almost a week later before I actually got in to see him.  Diagnosis: trachea bronchitis.

What?  Never heard of that one.  He said it is simply bronchitis in the trachea and upper regions, not down in my lungs.  I called the Englishman from the car park with the diagnosis. By the time I was back home he had already researched it and emailed me an article with more specific information.  Darling man! Thankfully I was given some medication and am slowly starting to feel better.  The coughing has subsided substantially and I, and my poor Englishman who has been listening to me for weeks now, are grateful for that.

So what's the lesson learned this time?  Well, for one thing, I need to accept once and for all that my lungs and other organs above the waist are obviously a source of trouble for me.  I need to pay closer attention to symptoms early on.  And I need to call the doctor sooner!

Lesson learned.  Counting weeks.  Only 47 weeks until October returns. (I didn't actually count it out on my calendar. You can "google" to find that information.  Isn't technology wonderful?)

Wonderful news!

For those of you who have been praying for Baby L,  I am very happy to report that she is home from the hospital, with her family and doing well.  Thank you so much for all your prayers!

Thursday's thought for the day....

"Anyone who has been through dark times knows there are moments when you can't think what, exactly, there is to be thankful for - you simply can't feel, in the depths of your heart, grateful.  When those moments pass, and when I look around, and feel that profound, heart-stopping gratitude for all that is right and beautiful in the world - well,  I'm grateful for gratitude."

                           ~ Dominique Browning

                So am I.  Having gratitude in my heart completely changes the way I look at life.

Tip for a Tuesday....

Lessons Learned from an October Snowstorm:

1. Sometimes, very rarely, the weather predictors actually get it right.

2. You can never have enough blankets.

3. Taper candles burn brighter than pillar candles.

4. You are blessed indeed if you have another residence to escape to.

5. Those who lived before electricity, indoor plumbing and heating have my undying admiration.

6. Always charge fully all electronics at the first hint of a storm.

7. Large cooler containers can hold an incredible amount of refrigerator contents.

8. Weather disasters can bring unforeseen gifts such as an impromptu sleepover with daughters and granddaughters.

9. Having a crocheting project already in the works helps pass the time and gives one a sense of accomplishing something.

10.Storms can instantly renew your sense of gratitude for even the smallest of blessings.

Hoping everyone made it safely through the storm!