Haikus for Mom's Birthday

She spoke the truth when

she said: Here's to the mother

who let her do it.

Like the brown groundhog,

you're my brunette cautionary

for not fucking up.

No one makes breakfast

--waffles, bacon, scrambled eggs--

like you do, at noon.

For each of your gifts,

you are thoughtful of your theme:

mostly, it's called love.

I can talk a lot

of nothing of consequence;

thank you for listenin'.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMA....

The Christmas Spirit

I survey the scene of my home from my white plush robe and armchair: the berry lights are lit, the tree decorated, the presents wrapped under the tree. The carpet is vacuumed, the plants are water, the dishes left undone (but I'm not too worried about them). The Winter Songs album is playing with the latest rendition of Frosty the Snowman. I am ready.

And waiting.

On a train travelling through the depths of the London streets, which have just received a dusty of snow, is my brother and his girlfriend. They are headed my direction, my brother just off a transatlantic flight. I can't bring myself to do anything but wait in anticipation. The excitement almost tangible that I don't know how to react to daily life it seems. The last time I was this nervous/excited/dazed was my first wedding day in April: I woke up before the sunrise and needed to laugh to relieve the tension.

But now, now, I cradle the laptop as a distraction device, write to you, and think, well, this is part of the Christmas Spirit isn't: waiting for your loved ones to arrive through whatever the weather, the kitchen a little dirty, and your home warm and open. Sigh.

Grams

Today, my great-grandmother would have been 101.

For the last four days or so, I have been thinking of Grams, missing her, wearing the cross she bequeathed me--a cross she received on her 50th wedding anniversary from my great-grandfather, Gramps. I was one month old at their party and there is a square, tinted photograph of me swaddled in her arms and my great-grandfather looking on: their first great-granddaughter.

The necklace is a gold cross with inlay black onyx and a tiny pearl set just in the middle. I've worn it to special occasions since she passed in January 2009--weddings, rehearsal dinners, nice dinners out--but the last few weeks I've been wearing it when I thought of her, to work, during the day. I find it difficult, intellectually, to wear a religious symbol with so much weight to it--that's how I hold it in my mind anyway--but I find comfort in the closeness of her spirit.

Grams was also a Sagittarius and there are certain things during the holiday season that inevitably remind me of her: singing in the choir; wrapping presents with neat corners (she taught me the right way to wrap them in 6th grade when I used to come over and wrap her grab bag gifts...); and her wise tip of the "Deary-to-Deary" present, a necessary shopping purchase in the run-up to Christmas.

I had the extreme fortune of knowing 5 great-grandparents in my life, all on my father's side. Almost none was more complex or familiar than my relationship with Grams: I was the little girl who didn't want to be a "little girl" and the one who came after-school to help her around the house in junior high. While we weren't explicit in my relationship with Alex, her approval that she liked her meant very much.

The last time I saw her, she was asleep in bed and I woke her to say goodbye: I was leaving to move to England. She smiled at me, at Alex, and I knew she would be done with this world soon enough. She had had her run and now it was time to be reunited with all those that had gone before her. She was ready.

Happy Birthday, Grams. We're thinking of you.

After the Vintage Shops

On Friday, while malls across the US were ensconced in Black Friday mayhem, my sis-in-law and I hit up the vintage shops in Covent Garden. I very nearly bought an XL blue and yellow plaid men's shirt because it reminded my dad, and stealing his shirts to wear when I was little.

There are certain days

when I just want to throw on

a blue plaid shirt or a white

tank top and call it good.

Baking Without You

In preparation for Thanksgiving, and the three-day cookies:

In my memory, I know exactly how I assist you,

the kitchen warm and me adding the flour slowly.

In my home, when I only have your recipe,

I struggle to remember which order to add

the egg, butter, sugar, making it up as I go.

For my cousin's birthday

Happy Birthday, Kay! This one's for you.

My Cousin

When the man you loved
took you to The Great White North,
I refused to call him anything but
The Man Who Took Kay Kay Away...

Then he turned out
to be quite alright after all
and you incredibly happy.

So when it came time
and I fell head over heels
for a woman from The Great British Isles,
I took your lead and followed her here.

Because, all my memories of you,
the many photographs through the years,
are of you beside me,
letting me know it's OK,
telling me you're proud of who I am,
confirming that so much is possible
when you go for what you want, with love.

It was yours, always

For Friday 12th November:

As I'd gotten a few prompts this week, I thought I'd look one up for myself and found this one online: write about a very small object. I chose the necklace my father gave me for my wedding.

Here's the first draft of a few of the stanzas (correct for accuracy if needed):

In the pockets of his wedding suit
he'd found grains of rice and
pieces of bird seed that had been thrown.
Together with the broken amethyst

he enclosed them all in a glass locket,
hung from a braided chain of gold.

From a Punny Family

I hail from a punny family, with a family name written out over maps of England. Living thus in England, the place where from my ancestors fled, the pun-o-rific opportunities are endless. The fact that the area I live in vaguely (or rather directly, depending on whom you're talking to) sounds like passing gas is just unfortunate and absolutely hilariously bonding.

xoxo

Bud

I miss my brother.

Today

Today I breathed a lot. Today I cried a lot. Today I started to think again about what was important to me: my committment to my partner, the love of my family, my freshness for life, and staying present in my body. Nothing like life throwing you some hefty curve balls to get your priorities straight.

Where I've Been

Wow. That is the first word that comes to mind in reflecting upon the last four days: wow. As you may have noticed, I've been gone from one a day for more than a day with Thanksgiving festivities. At home in California, there are three days of traditions. For my first year in England for Thanksgiving, there ended up being three days of festivities.

The actual day of Thanksgiving my mum-in-love brought out all the surprises after she joined us in London for the holiday so I could be with family. First, it was a bowl of Jelly Bellies and a plate of vegetarian sushi. Then, I was banished to the bedroom while her and Alex decked out the living room/dining room with fabrics, candles, potpourri, flowers and food. After that, while all the yummy food a la Marks & Spencers was being heated and the cava flowing, our front buzzer rang with surprise guests of J&E (Alex's sister & her wife) with their dog, Foxy, to top off all the surprises!! Warm, loved: such a relaxing evening with my second family on this side of the ocean.

Friday brought the baking: family recipes of sugar cookies and pumpkin pies. Attempted home-made hummus and planning for our first turkey roast the next day. I even got to talk to the family and all the cousins in California via the delightful possibilities of the internet (thank you, Skype!)

Thanksgivin' a la Tooting! happened on the Saturday with 16 of us (16!) filling out the 3 tables + chairs spread Last Supper style down the center of our living space: decorating cookies'; enjoying devilled eggs, wine and champagne; feasting on the intense amount of food provided; conducting the most stellar clean-up job I've ever seen from a collective group of people at a party; and playing games and chatting until the clock struck twelve.

Endless moments to be thankful for, countless people to feel loved by near and far, epic proportions of food to be relished over.

Mmm, the food. A one a day list to be drooled over:

• Delia's style turkey with butter, bacon, salt, Tony's Creole seasoning (not Delia style) and lemon
• Mashed potatoes with spring onions, butter, sour cream and milk
• Sweet potato souffle with pecans
• Southern Green Bean Casserole with home-made fried onions
• Cornbread
• Devilled Eggs
• Home-made hummus with carrots & celery
• Champagne, wine and sweet tea
• Nut-Vegetable Loaf
• Brie & Goats Cheese
• Cranberry sauce a la Britian
• Cranberry sauce a la Washington
• Hawaiian style stuffing
• Paxo stuffing
• Home-made sugar cookies
• Home-made pumpkin pies
• Ice cream, Double Cream, Cornish Cream
• New York Cheesecake
• Mini Mince Pies
• Chocolate Tart
• Bakewell Tart
• Tarte aux Pommes (Apple Tart)
• Citron Tart!
  

Hereditary Laughter

My g'ma has narcalepsy and it gets triggered by laughter: when something strikes her as really funny, she passes out. Some would consider this an unfortunate turn of events, given that her four children have an uncanny ability to tell a funny story and put her to sleep.

My memories of the family gathered as a young child (the oldest girl granddaughter I was usually alone and hanging out with the adults) was of someone telling a story that was obviously so funny they could barely contain their own laughter and then someone saying 'Oh, catch Mom!' or 'Catch, Grandma, quick!' as she tried to fight off the sleep and, ultimately, slumped in her chair. That said, she does wake up pretty quick and the laughter doesn't miss a beat.

Remembering just makes me miss her more. Thanksgiving is this week and ever year she hosts the epic feast in her living room turned restuarant come Turkey Day. When I missed Thanksgiving one year because I was living abroad before, she said she'd kill me if I ever missed it again. Thankfully, she's understanding this year, and as an honor to her, my living room too will become a banquet hall and, who knows, maybe it'll be a night where we all fall over in laughter.

Family

A bowl of fruits...

Family & Chocolate

I love my family. And one of the reasons I love my family is because they love chocolate.

My cousin MO's wedding cake, for a visual.

I always try to bring them chocolate from wherever I've been and we know the best places for hot chocolate and sweet delights in multiple countries. As I wrote last week, my aunt, RO, sent a care package chocked full of America's finest candy, most of which were chocolate. Today, a package arrived from my cousin, KO, with a beautiful engagement card, two packages of Maltesers (yes!), and a box of milk and dark chocolate Rhéo Thompson mint smoothies:

Possibly the best mint chocolate on the planet...

Yes, they do look that good in person and they are melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Alex and I about fell over when we opened the package and its contents explained the slight minty odor I detected when carrying the package home from the post office. Chocolate like this makes me happy my cousin followed her heart and moved away to the Great White North!

The gold foil wrapping to it all? My finacée's family loves chocolate (and food, for that matter) as much as we do. And if anyone had told me I would get chocolate for getting engaged, I would have proposed even sooner!

Ok, maybe not, but still...chocolate...