The Places We Will Go

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. 

Thornton Wilder

Last Friday my husband and I went to lunch at Betony -- a James Beard nominee restaurant in New York City. Right there on West 57th, just down the street from Carnegie Hall and a couple blocks from Central Park. For a girl from southern Minnesota and a boy from Pontiac, Michigan, I'm not certain we ever envisioned such an opportunity. But one must do what one must do.

After being seated at an incredible table with views of the entire restaurant with its ornate brick walls and towering bar shelves, intricate ceiling and wooden staircases, we perused our menus with delight. Appetizer choices of Hen's Egg Tagliatelle and Ham Hock, Rocotta Gnudi, or Pig's Head Terrine with Salsa Verde. A main course of Roasted Beef Tenderloin with potatoes and baby leeks or Sauteed Skate Wing or Poached Lobster with asparagus and almond. Desserts of Dark Chocolate with Earl Grey ice cream and Olive Oil cream or Amaranth with maple and banana.

We enlisted the waiter's help for our menu choices and then ordered some wine. Sat there sipping and taking it all in.

Two runners appeared with a carrot buttermilk soup. Sweet and tangy. Delicious. With that settling on our palates, I saw a couple flashes of white approaching the table and looked up to see the Executive Chef - Bryce Shuman - setting an appetizer before me. And someone behind him setting another in front of my husband. I shook the chef's hand with delight, but excused myself to rise with tears in my eyes to embrace the young cook standing behind him - our son, Ian.

Ian had no idea his parents were in the house. He was more than a little rattled when Chef Bryce yelled at him to get upstairs to help deliver plates. He grabbed the dishes wondering why he was carrying and not the runners he passed en route.

Too much fun.

After a quick acknowledgment of their being in the middle of service, they returned to the kitchen. If that incredible moment and the food were not savory enough, more surprise arrived when the Chef returned after the meal to tell us our boy was doing well in his work. We thanked him for the opportunity he'd given Ian. Incredible parent moment.

Check out my entree.

We weren't in New York City strictly for the fabulous food. We were there, with all our kids and a couple of uncles, to celebrate Ian's graduation from the International Culinary Center, formerly the French Culinary Institute. Yes, the last of three kids to graduate and begin their very own lives. Off our payroll!

Ian technically finished his classes in January and began his job as line cook at Betony in February.  Graduation was held at Carnegie Hall now. All the classes from the past year including culinary, pastry and sommelier participated and Bobby Flay gave the keynote speech.

Ian took a selfie from the stage.

 

And we took a few photos.

Pomp and Circumstance

Two of Ian's favorite chef instructors

Chef Jeff

Chef Henri

 

Proud Family

Mom and Dad

Earlier in this post I mentioned that girl from southern Minnesota and a boy from Pontiac. I can't speak for the boy, but I recall that little girl dreaming of boundless adventure. That an entire world existed beyond the boundaries of Mower County. That someday I wanted to see it, taste it, experience it, even though I wasn't certain how to make that happen. Or certain I had the guts.

A gratitude-filled ride it has been. Grateful that I found a partner that was eager to explore and supply most of the guts. That we were blessed with the opportunity to have these kids of ours and create a home base.  That they, each and every one of them, have taken us on adventures and road trips and exposed us to things beyond whatever I imagined way back when.

Ian's turn this round. We are most proud of you. Be Good. Do Well. Come home once in a while.

 

Let the ride continue.

Interpreting Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, after all, is a word of action. 

W. J. Cameron

I had lunch with a good friend the other day. We ate at a lovely little bistro - sat in a back corner so we could talk and not be overrun by all the conversations buzzing in the restaurant.  As always when we meet for lunch, the time flies and in between all the discussions of writing, books, New York City, aches and pains, art and hibernation, two hours have passed. Once again, we are the only ones left in the restaurant other than the wait staff. 

The quote above arrived with the check -- written on a small slip like those found in a fortune cookie, minus the lottery numbers. My friend scooped it up and said, "I'm posting this on Facebook." 

If she hadn't done that, and I hadn't seen it on Facebook later in the day, I might never have remembered the quote. Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving. A word of action. Several ways that could be interpreted. 

Of course, my first thought of it as a word of action is all my action in the kitchen putting that huge dinner on every year. The planning, the purchasing, the cleaning, the table setting. The pie making and potato peeling. The bread spread over the counter to dry for the stuffing. The celery and onions chopped into small pieces. The cream ready for whipping. 

With all that work, I've seldom thought about exactly what the holiday meant. Certainly I am thankful for what I have. My family. My friends. The gathering. The day. The fact that it is my favorite holiday because all you have to do is cook and eat.

I am a grateful person. I write gratitudes often. Perhaps as with most things I now encounter as I grow supposedly older and wiser, I notice what I haven't noticed before. Thanksgiving - a word of action. Thanksgiving. Giving thanks. Thanking those that make a difference. Having great respect for those that give. Giving thanks for the gifts that others give - even though they may not know that what they give is appreciated. Relaying my thanks.

As always, I'm not certain of my interpretation. The quote most likely offers something much deeper than my analysis. But I do know I'm actively thankful for many, many, many people, places and  things. With deep gratitude, I thank another dear friend, Kris, who is hosting Thanksgiving this year.  So thankful am I for inviting me that I will bring the pumpkin and buttermilk pies. And a salad. And a vegetable. And rolls. And wine. And my husband and one of my sons and his girlfriend. 

I'll bring joy to the gathering. I'll relish the time we will have as three families most familiar with one another flock together and share a meal. Share a Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving - a joy to act upon. 

 Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Blogger's Joy

Praise the bridge that carried you over.

George Colman

Why do I blog? Why do I wonder how those I've met in the blog world fare in their days? Why do I write to those who have not posted in some time to see how life goes?

Perhaps because they have continual faith in me, despite my absences and often lack of individual thankfulness for their comments. Despite my inconsistent visits to their home pages.

Why do I blog? Because when I have a totally crappy day and the audacity to write about it, YOU all write to me. You reassure me. You let me know you are out there. (Even though you may have had an equally or completely worse day.)

That's why I blog. Not for what I get, but what I might give when I'm able to do that. Not to mention I find it fascinating how others live their lives. Also, how fun to read when bloggers get together from afar.

Several of my blogger friends gathered in the photo above. Lovely women, all of them, in attendance at my son's wedding last April.

On the left, Kimber, The Fragrant Liar, the "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille" friend of mine who relocated to Florida in June. On my other side, Bernie, that old broad from Wisconsin at Old?Who? Me? and then Beth at The Busy Traveler, the talented chemical engineer turned writer who travels much too much and sends my jealous meter off the chart.

As for that old broad in Wisconsin, I'm headed up there on Saturday to celebrate her 85th birthday. Feel free to wish her a happy day. I'll be freezing my big Texas butt off in the frigid cold that has descended on that state, because I'm visiting, I'm sure. Believe it or not, there is no Packer game this weekend. Is there no mercy for a long-time fan?

Next post should arrive upon my return, Old? Who? Me? accompanying me for a Texas stay.

Hence, let us not underestimate ourselves. I have followed many of you for almost two years. Community. I thank you for responding when in my dumps and in my highs and middling. I appreciate your comments and suggestions.

You will have that backing with me, also. More important, as a reader for your most lovely essays of norm, and adventure. This roadtrip of the Midlife Jobhunter has been most interesting even though I'm not certain I've metered much mileage yet.

For Janine, and Many More

The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.

Frederick Buechner

Today I send special thoughts out to a lovely woman. Janine at Sniffles and Smiles is in need of thoughts and prayers today as she faces surgery, one of many.

When Janine first visited my blog, I was enamoured by her positive and friendly manner. Her writing is most impressive and I await her Saturday posts with gratitude.

Years ago, when I first began the practice of serious writing, I participated in many online classes in personal essay, short story, etc. Intrigued me to discover the intimacy developed between writers through our sharing and trust. Never occurred to me that the only thing missing was actually having met them in person. Seemed like they lived next door.

Once at a writing conference, I began a conversation with the woman sitting next to me. She said something that struck me as familiar. I glanced at her name tag to discover she was indeed familiar. That I knew many of her secret thoughts and desires, much about her family and dreams. That we had crossed paths in several places in the neighborhood of our real world never knowing we had knowledge of such private details about one another.

So goes the world of blogging. We share ourselves in a manner that opens our minds to new thoughts, ideas, and opinions while handing out parts of ourselves. We learn the heart of some that perhaps the people who live in our own homes don't know. I'm grateful for that venue.

Today, I consider Janine and other blogging friends in need of care, along with many others in my visual "family" that I offer my deliberate attention.

P.S. Please visit Teacher's Pet for a note from Janine.

Random Kindness Appreciated

Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.

Henry Ward Beecher

Yesterday brought a most unusual day for several reasons. First, awoke to rain and cool temperatures of 58. Sixty-eight days of 100+ degree heat accompanied by a drought, found me dredging through the closet for a pair of pants that might fit my summer body.

Instead of biting my lip when looking out my windows at a scorched lawn and wilting garden, beautiful green met my gaze. My new tomato plants reached higher just overnight.

Happy to find my husband had replaced my windshield wipers, I drove over to pick up a friend I hadn't seen in a while. Time seems to get away from me and I had thought of her often. A few weeks prior she had dropped her daughter off at college and now with both children gone, I wondered how she fared in a house void of children.

She chose a restaurant downtown and we ordered a glass of wine. Greeted by a menu of delectable comfort food, I ordered something I never do, nor particularly like. Macaroni and Cheese. This, however, was Green Chili Macaroni and Cheese delivered in a very large bowl. Incredibly good. Mouth watering good. Don't let me take another bite good. Great perk also - large enough portion for a take home dinner for husband and son.

Where is this going, you say? Just the usual, fervid conversation as we caught up on the past month only stopping to take in a bite or a sip of wine. The waiter came to ask if we wanted dessert. We passed. (I was giving up swimming a mile at the Y to lunch the afternoon away. Couldn't further compromise myself by eating dessert.)

She then informed us that our lunch had been taken care of. That no bill would come our way.

What? Was I in the movies? How could this be?

"Who?" we asked.

"I can only say someone in this room."

Having been so engaged in conversation, we never noticed anyone at other tables and we glanced around the room, seeking who we knew. I knew no one. I looked at Lisa. She didn't know anyone either.

A kind soul? An admirer? We'll never know. Most fun.

I will have to return that fun with gratitude for someone else one day soon. A kindness I never would have considered until I experienced it myself. I'm thinking that will be more thrilling than having received it. Gratitude appreciated.

Also, random kindness arrived in the form the following two awards. From ds at the beautiful third-storey window I have been granted the Zombie Chicken award. Please visit her site. Truly lovely. ds, I'm so glad I found your site.

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words.



And from Missy at Missy's Book Nook, the Dragon's Loyalty Award. I find it most easy to loyally follow her blog. Who can resist a book lover? Visit and read her book reviews. Authors - she also will review your book. I thank you, Missy.



The morning glories featured here were another lovely surprise. They sprang up during the late spring from seeds in a pot I had planted last year. All summer at the lake, I kept them watered in hopes they'd bloom. The week I was in Green Bay, I figured they would die without my touch, but returned to find them most beautiful. One never knows.